


Descension

by Archaema



Series: The Hellhounds' Odyssey [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Anubis Pharah - Freeform, Blood, Devil Mercy, F/F, Hellhounds, Lesbian Sex, Pharmercy, Temporary Character Death, imp mercy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 15:37:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9768455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archaema/pseuds/Archaema
Summary: In a world where magic and technology mingle amidst the fall of older orders of society, Knight-Lord Fareeha 'Pharah' Amari is a legend for her leadership, prowess, and dedication to justice and the protection of the people of her land under the King.  From one unexpected night of rumor, invasion, and inexplicably bizarre occurrences, the world she has dedicated herself to begins to unravel, swirling around a pair of lavender eyes watching from the shadows.





	1. The Final Night

**Author's Note:**

> This work takes place in a fantasy/technology mixed setting similar to later Final Fantasy worlds.  
> There will be concerns of power, control, and resentment heavily interwoven into this, so if these are off-putting to you, please choose to not consume this content. There is also blood and violence in subsequent chapters, so be prepared and forewarned on that topic as well.  
> Additionally, our apologies. Pharah and Mercy are the most wholesome and pure fluffballs in existence and deserve to live together in bliss forever.  
> Always feel free to provide constructive criticism. No one improves in writing structure or characterization in a vacuum.

"There have been odd stories popping up lately, Knight-Lord," said the quiet voice of Mei-Ling Zhou. On research travel about the world, the visitor from far east of the stone, metal, and crystal-inlaid walls they stood in, and the vast forest that surrounded them, had a quiet pensive tone to her words as she looked up at a taller woman in the wide hallway in which they had just crossed paths. "I would not bring it up, were it not for the fact that people are growing restless in Gerwald and even some in the capital to the north. I suspect they mainly just fear mysticism they do not understand, but you never know. Rumors can take on a life of their own."

"The ones about some purple-haired, horned devil appearing and stealing souls? Mei, please do not tell me you believe this is really going on," replied the other woman's strong voice as she halted and turned to look at her, blue and gold armor forged in a falcon-motif gleaming in the light of the illuminated floors. Magitech, the combination of science and natural energies of the world, was what allowed the crystals inlaid along the floor and along the wall to provide light. It was almost always the province of the landed nobility, wealthy, and otherwise elite members of society. Full suits of armor, weapons, and even buildings that made extensive use of it or were wholly reliant and made from it were rare things indeed. Most of the rest of the people, city, rural, or between, were more content to believe that the technology was more magic than anything. It was easier than having to sort out the last half-century of collapse that had brought most traditional scientific methods to their knees and ushered in the incursion of things that they simply could not explain in normal circumstance.

"And why would it be in Eichenwald, of all places?" she questioned, rolling her dark almond eyes at the foolishness of the idea. The aged fortress had grown worse for wear over the years, but it was one of the most fortified areas in Germany, and that had brought it back into prominence and encouraged architectural and structural upgrades to bring it to modern standards. In truth it was ancient, but in the upper reaches, magitech was necessary to keep everything in order and to the standards needed to coordinate war with the strange blend of powers and machinery.

"Sorry! But usually there's basis in fact for rumors. I was reading the records when I visited the Zurich fortress last month, after I first heard them," Mei replied, voice hushed as she leaned forward. Brown hair falling over her glasses, she adjusted them and gave the knight a pointed look. "You know about their healing arts and war priests, with their nanotechnology and the nanobiologic advancements they make use of. Their insistence on medicine and faith, their study of the crusader faith, specifically... They said their greatest mind, a young, brilliant Priestess, years ago, that she gave into dark temptations."

"Temptations? So some priest there read a trashy love novel and it's suddenly a ghost haunting the people?" she said, skeptical look crossing her face, a touch of anger furrowing her brows.

"Fareeha, I'm well aware of your collection, and I'm well-advised this isn't the kind that suits your preferences," she replied, face reddening a bit. "They said she was tempted by a demon-"

"A demon? Honestly, Mei."

"Yes, and she got what she wanted; power of life, death, transmutation... and then she killed him to protect her secrets."

"Well, that went darker than I expected. Some romantic novel."

"My point is that there are kernels of truth, and if something like that is stalking the streets and countryside, we need to increase the guard and take some visible precautions. The lancers, those bandits in France, have been approaching our borders, probing, and more of the golems have been rising out of the western swamp region, since it got flooded. Enough people might just cause the rumors to go away completely."

"Should I not have been informed of this?" Pharah interjected. "It sounds like a major issue. Those people will be nearly defenseless."

"The King dispatched militia, but the rumors, well, Lord Reinhardt wants security maintained here, and he feels you are 'too valuable to sacrifice on the front lines,' now. Your image inspires people throughout the land," she said, voice becoming apologetic.

"Mei, I took on the role of protecting the innocent the day I got this," she growled, clenching a fist before gesturing to the eye of Horus tattoo below her eye. "Did someone just make this up to keep me from defending our land? They threaten innocent people, ruin their livelihoods, and expect me to stay caged here?" She sighed, letting her anger dissipate to a more manageable level, and gave a frustrated, begrudging smile. "Look, just please, if you hear any more of this, tell me. I will not leave the people defenseless while I stay bottled up here."

"The Lord's command was specifically to make sure we preserve your well-being and location to provide morale to the people. You're past the point of questing for honor and fame, my Lady; you are valuable. Inspiring." Her tone carried a plea in it, and it seemed she had begged knowing full well that Fareeha would not listen.

"Just find anything around the fortress, then. Raiders and bandits have grown quite bold in the forests, I'm told." The sepia-skinned woman reached up, brushing her fingers along her temple with the clink of the golden beads ornamenting the black locks. "You shouldn't be so cold to the needs of our people, Mei," she said, small grin on her face.

"Did... did you just do that on purpose?"

"Maybe. It wasn't my best work," she replied, sighing.

"That's cold," she said, shaking her head. She lifted a gloved hand, a puff of snowy ice crystals swirling around in her palm. "I should snowball you right now."

"Sorry, I'm not allowed to indulge in either humor or fun most of the time, now. Council meetings are dreadfully boring, if important. It's making my jokes rusty. Tell Lord Reinhardt that I understand his concern and will do my best to avoid any unnecessary entanglements. I wish I knew who advised him to come up with this idea, though. It's downright ridiculous. But, my loyalty is not going to falt-"

"Knight-Lord Pharah," came a voice from down the hall. "Knight-Lord Pharah, Honorable Mei Ling-Zhou!" A young knight, in full winged combat armor of a similar vein, if not as ornate or new as that Pharah wore, ran down the hall and came to a skidding stop not more than a meter from them.

"Sir Ducard," Pharah replied. "What is the problem?"

"Talon, Sir," Ducard answered, straightening up after briefly pausing to catch his breath. He pulled some stray blond locks of hair away from the front of his eyes. "Their ships, three of them, were spotted by the Annecy Guard already on the Thiou river. They've called for aid. Twenty hours, they expect, or maybe a bit longer."

"Mobilize my guard, then. It will take us at least 6 hours to prepare and kit up." She steadied herself and let out a sigh. "Have them get rest and order the squires to get their gear ready and loaded. I will see to my belongings and try to grab some rest. It should take about four hours for us to reach Annecy, so we will be allowing ourselves enough time to prepare. Go find... against my better judgment, go find Jamison and Mako. Have them leave immediately to rally the militia Stuttgart and see if Zurich can send help."

"Pharah, you cannot do this, it's too-"

"The day we turn our backs on honor and justice, or fail in aiding our allies, Mei, is the day our kingdom does not deserve to stand." In a flash, the armored woman had turned and was swiftly storming off down one of the side corridors, a hand up in dismissal.

"Well, there's no arguing with that one once she's made up her mind." Mei sighed and shook her head, looking to the other knight. "Well, you heard her! Hurry up, or we won't be able to salvage anything of this. Let them know if they need anything I will be in the solarium."

"Right away, of course," Ducard nodded before taking a deep breath and turning to run back down the hallway in the same direction from whence he had come.

* * *

Pharah walked swiftly toward the tower where her quarters were located, sharing a floor with the independent hangar where she stored her armor and weapons, the combined equipment called Raptora. The finest artificers, enchanters, and even a few scientists had spent years combining their talents to create the mobile, powerful equipment. When she entered her hangar, she immediately gestured to her squire. A young woman of no more than eighteen, she rose up quickly, wiping dirt and grime from her hands. With a shake of her head, Fareeha indicated she was in no mood to talk. Rest was her priority.

Walking to the tall metal frame that was the resting place for her armor, she moved to position herself in the proper arms out pose to start removing it. In a matter of moments, they had stripped the armored casing and jet pack, and finally she was left standing in her black, gold-trimmed undersuit. The metallic veins ran along various points and nerve contact points, gleaming in the bright, soft-white light of the room. She murmured only the most gruff of thanks, and stormed out of the room, hand held to her temple to try and massage away frustration with two fingertips rubbing vigorously.

Down the short hallway, she held her hand to the small panel at the door, which glowed and allowed her entry after only a split second taken to verify her identity. Taking a deep breath, she stepped in and shut the door behind her with a quick press of a matching panel, and turned to face her bed. She pondered grabbing a drink or small snack; there was a fresh bowl of grapes resting on a small table in the corner that called to her, but she shook her head at the notion and instead climbed onto the bed. The room's lights dimmed to barely any illumination, leaving only a gentle blue ambient glow that felt comfortable to her. Pulling the violet top bed sheet over her, she grasped a matching pillow and buried her head in it for a moment, groaning out a frustrated sound before she flipped over to try and rest. She'd only have a few hours, and she knew she had to make it count if she was expecting to be in battle in less than a half a day.

But Mei's story must have been stuck in her mind. When she had drifted to the point just between asleep and awake, she swore she could see it. Lavender eyes, pale skin, like fresh cream. Hair, a shade darker than her eyes was pulled back into a ponytail at the crown of her head, and dark, soot-colored horns swept up along either side of her head. Had she heard such details about her appearance to be able to see her so vividly? There was a weight on her chest, as if someone laid atop her.

"I wonder what you will choose, Knight-Lord?" Her voice was soft, sweet, soothing.

Pharah had grown accustomed to the trappings of her station, but she had not rid herself of her life as a soldier. She slept all too lightly and she was cognizant of the weight, though that she could pass off as her dilemma weighing upon her. But the voice - that eerily familiar voice, she could not ignore.

"Angela," she whispered quietly. The sound of her own voice speaking aloud the name made her eyes drift open, pulling her from her shallow sleep. It would not have been appropriate to admit to Mei that the tale had more familiarity than she would have liked. Memories of her youth long ago, when she had been but a young woman and had fled her homeland to seek glory and justice, she had ended up in that very same city of Zurich. A great tournament of hard-fought battles had earned her the first recognition that set her on her path to knighthood and had won her reknown.

What she had not, however, been familiar with was exactly what had happened to the beautiful priestess she had met after several battles before she had joined the ranks to serve and rebuild Eichenwald under King Reinhardt. The pangs of occasional regret for not being able to talk to her again, to see her one last time, and share in something - anything, still hit her to that very day. But she knew that it was not, nor could it be, that golden haired, winged healer of unparalleled beauty that she'd held in her mind's eye for so long after she was gone.

Without looking about at all, she slammed her head back to the pillow and forced her eyes shut. She murmured to herself unintelligibly, the mistakes of youth prime among the barely spoken aloud words, moving a hand to rub at her temple again to try and calm her nerves. The weight was gone, yet it felt for a moment as if something - or someone - had been there, a faint influx of chill air sinking in in the absence of warmth. For a few moments, it was silent again, save for the normal ambient noises that settled through the fortress with soft creaks and cracks.

"Oh," the soft voice floated through the air again, a note of amusement with the vague hint of satisfaction laced through it. "You remember my name, and it was so long ago. I'm flattered." The same distinct musical lilt, and even the accent. "I remember you, too."

Phantom voices heard twice was usually not coincidence. Though in the back of her waking mind she decided it could be insanity, too, she jolted upright, a clump of bedsheets and a plush, violet pillow in hand against her chest. She could not see much of anything in the room, the faint blue illumination worked into the floor and walls set to a very low setting to accommodate sleep, or at least the attempt she was making at it. A sigh escaped her lips.

"Is this what happens? I get near forty and I start hallucinating?" she quietly intoned to herself, huffing the faintest of disgusted laughs. She found herself annoyed for a moment, thinking of Reinhardt; he was slowing a bit, but his fortitude and mind were still as sharp as ever and he had decades on her. Her mother as well, for that matter, was in excellent health last she had heard. It was distinctly unfair. Her thoughts drifted back, as she saw nothing in the room. The story had been different from what Mei had related. To a handful of nobles and knights of higher station, the tales of the explosion in the castle had been simply those of a failure of research and magical energy experimentation. She'd even seen pictures from some of the priests who had been outside, detailed holographic images with more detail than she had ever wanted to imagine.

"Angela died," she reminded herself, whispering into the room again. Part of her ached at the thought. She had known, in fact knew in the present, all too well that to have had a real relationship with their stations and professions was an almost impossible challenge. Yet even if it had been just once that they had been able to... but that time was over. No matter how she thought of it, dreamed even, she was certain she knew the truth. Frustration drove the side of her fist into the wall next to her, head hanging low in the sudden move to sit up and chase away the memories.

"You have to sleep, Fareeha. You have to do what is right. Being a zombie won't save anyone."

Shadowed lips curled into a faint smile. So it was revealed. The faint spark of raw longing and desire that the Knight-Lord had managed to keep well-hidden for so many years. A lick of the lips, the idea too delicious to put out of mind - It meant the seed was germinating, the sliver of a memory turning in on itself. She alighted from the room, allowed her rest. "Soon," she promised herself.


	2. The Final Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An encounter on an abandoned rampart.

Dawn would soon break, but within the halls of Eichenwald, it was still dark, the hour too early for the lighting to rise to a brighter level. Knight-Lord Pharah, dressed in the black and gold jumpsuit that paired with her Raptora armor and with a pair of simple gray leggings over her legs for warmth, felt like she had not slept a moment despite having done so for several hours. It would make the day long and difficult, but adversity had never stopped her before, and she had no intention of letting it start. As she passed one of the staircases level with where her quarters resided, her tired but refocused mind was, she was sure, tricked. An often unused path to a battlement was at the top of the stairs, and out of the corner of her eye, the faint glow of lavender pinpoints flickered.

"Justice," she whispered to herself. "That's the right path." She recalled a faint question of what path she would choose that was a mystery to her waking mind. Far too close to sleep to recognize any of it as reality, she did not recognize it as real, but exhaustion could not blind her morality, the trait she held that never been questioned. She fought every quandary and conflict and came out on top every time, her tenacity legendary in its own right, and she did it by being just at all times. Incorruptible, the stories said. Mei had not been inaccurate about her reputation and her importance in the German lands, second only to the king himself.

A pause crept in to her step. She looked off to the rarely trodden steps to the old battlement. _Why now?_ Why would her mind conjure up Angela now?

"Maybe this battle will be it." Closing her eyes, the Knight steadied her hands and smoothed her leggings with her palms. "I'll see her again." It was practical, she told herself, more than morbid. She did not buy into myths of her own invulnerability. Soldiers, even knights, could and did die frequently. Any of her knightly peers could have gone into great length on the tales of glorious ends. Perhaps it was a childish fantasy from her younger days or some romantic notion. Indeed, sometimes those feelings, those fantasies, made her laugh, and in that moment she did. It was only with a hint of bitterness.

Nostalgia, Fareeha thought, was harmless. It was why she kept two unsent letters in a heavy writing desk in her quarters; one, to her mother, in case of her demise to try and set their relationship straight, and the other, never sent, to invite Angela to visit and enjoy the view out from those battlements that set high above the surrounding forest, if only for one short trip. If she were honest with herself, she had hoped it would lead to a longer opportunity to try and convince her to join them.

Despite the shortness of time she had to prepare, she felt drawn to look out into those forested lands beyond the edge of the fortress's walls to appease that sense of nostalgia, tinged with long suppressed regret. Opposite the village and city on the other side, it was peaceful peaks and valleys of lush trees that calmed the soul, and she felt her soul could use calming.

In her mind's eye, she found herself picturing the priestess as she had known her; blonde hair, almost white, blue eyes like the cloudless sky, and always a serene smile. She allowed herself to imagine she had answered that unsent letter, and stood at the edge of those very battlements, turning to look as Pharah approached. A soft giggle, musical just like her voice filled the air. She knew it would not be the case if she went up those steps, but that long buried part of her heart could express a futile bit of hope that it could be true.

Tugging a long coat she grabbed from a rack against the wall over her jumpsuit and leggings, her eyes narrowed. There was in no way what she imagined could be real. Her hand rose to press lightly to her chest, the pain there definitely not an illusion or false memory. Why am I doing this to myself now, of all times? she thought to herself. She reached out, hand along the cold stone, the enchanted and scientifically enhanced wall gone and replaced by the old brick and mortar as she crept up the steps.

Why could she not be there? The fate of their relationship had hardly been what could be called fair. It was not just. She knew it was not Angela up there, but the knowledge that she so desperately wanted it to be hurt to her core. If nothing else, perhaps she could look out on the view she had so deeply wanted to share again. She steadied herself, drawing in a deep, forceful breath, and straightened her back. Up the rest of the stone stairs she went, the ancient stone shifting ever so slightly beneath her feet. The sturdy construction was not in danger of failing but it was heavily worn with age. She knew she had no time for distractions, but at the same time, she knew she had awoken earlier than she had planned. No one would begrudge her being a few fractions of a minute late, and it was unlikely any would ask why out of respect. The whipping cold air that she could already feel through the drafty upper reaches of the stairway, she decided, would help clear her mind; ease the ache.

Against all the caution she felt in her mind, the yearning made the hope grow stronger than it had any right to be, and no matter how much she told herself that Angela would not be there, it made her heart beat furiously as she pushed open the heavy battlement door. The air was colder than she had expected, the chill almost a sting to the nerves the instant it hit exposed skin, and even drove cold through her clothes into her flesh. Yet she bore it, as instantly she was reminded that the view was beautiful. It always had been. Yet the ache of not seeing the golden wings and that crown of blond hair... The colors seemed dull. She had been like the sun.

"You were right. It's breathtaking."

The voice was clear - no feverish dream was that soft melody she had heard decades ago. The form she saw, the one whose lips moved and brought forth the words, however, the distinctive shape that was hers, the same body to which Fareeha had paid youthful attention to against the better judgment of others all those years ago. Even the profile of her face, heavy-lidded eyes, shapely and slightly upturned nose, full lips that when smiling could take breath away screamed of Angela. It was also immediately apparent that it was not Angela as she had been. The angelic figure was gone. The lavender eyes she had seen before she fell asleep, with black horns sweeping around her head, and a similar purplish glow coming from the upper edges like a twisted version of the halo she had worn in situations of danger had replaced what once was. The wings gave her the most pause. They had once been golden natural energy had streamed forth from pristine white frames to let her glide effortlessly. These were instead jagged coal emitting a pale, unnatural violet energy that seemed to corrupt the very air about her with a warped, demonic aura.

Pharah felt her blood run cold at the sight. Whether it was the unnatural hair and horns or the cold wind she was not sure, but it was something the likes she had never seen. Talon's servants, often strange golem creatures augmented with sharp talons or samplings of still-working firearms, even the undead constructs that sometimes rose up and seemed to be the basis for Talon's work, none of those resembled what she found herself confronting.

"You're not the priestess," she said quietly, the words nearly catching in her throat. The sheer impossibility of it was overwhelming, yet she was so beautiful even without the gold halo and wings that had shone so brightly not just in her eyes but her mind as well. "Do not mock her by taking her form." Her voice had shifted quickly to growled words, unspent frustration and anger suddenly boiling out of her chest. The venom she felt raging shocked her in the back of her mind. Was the memory of this woman so severe? A gripping dread began to materialize in her mind. The letter had been secret. Never had she spoken of it to anyone. It was her secret - her memory of something happy that had never been meant to be shared with anyone except for that priestess and to be left only as a reminder of what she had lost.

"Her form?" The lavender-haired woman turned her head to look directly at the knight, her lip curving in a smile. It was a fleeting moment, as she closed her eyes and laughing softly, turned away again. "Here I thought you recognized my voice. You even said my name." When she looked back at her again, her eyes were bright, searing. "Now I'm curious. How many times have you whispered that name in your dreams?" Her expression oozed victory, as if she'd won a battle. "At night, when you were alone, did you ever cry out the name in passion, I wonder?"

"How could you dare ask something like that," Pharah snarled back, the stricken nerve almost tangible. How many years had it been? She would always believe she had finally let go, and then after a particularly long battle or exhausting march the thoughts would boil up again, like a ghost haunting her as she lay finally trying to sleep. "You look like her. Sound like her. But she was a radiant woman, and not whatever devil you are." She had not even brought her sidearm with her, and her armor was safely stored away. Could she even reach any of it it? She had no idea what the being was capable of.

"Senses can be fooled, many know it well." The Knight-Lord shifted with her back to the edge of the tower, slowly sidling up the steps further to reach the level surface of the battlement proper; it was a scant few feet, but she felt she had traveled miles. "You are the one Mei talked about. The people fear you. Fear the things you can do." Best to turn the conversation off of herself. The pain was entirely too acute.

The strange image of the woman Pharah had once known lowered her head faintly, her eyes narrowing. The horns lowered, her eyes closely watching the Knight-Lord. The horns looked almost as if they were decorative, just as the wings on her back could be seen as such. Boots shaped in the image of cloven hooves scraped on the stone. The tail that swayed behind her, though, looked real enough, as it flicked back and forth near the ground. A beast stalking prey, preparing itself as if anticipating Pharah would choose to attack her in her anger.

"The people will always fear what they don't understand. I used to fear death. Until I won." The corner of her lips lifted in a dimpled smirk. "Since my reputation precedes me, what will you do, Knight-Lord? Will you try to subdue me?"

"No one wins over death, Angela," Fareeha said, voice low. She caught herself and glared, angry at her misspoken words. Not for a moment did her rational mind believe it was Angela, the priestess called Mercy so many years ago.

"They say you steal souls. Is that really what it is? Or are you just tormenting the innocent. Angela would never-" The knight drew herself from the crouch she had unconsciously adopted. It did not look like she was armed, at the moment, even with the odd wings and cloven boots. Her approach had to change. "She wouldn't have hurt anyone. She was a complete pacifist." She remembered the moment, outside on the snowy slopes of the Alps, where she had told her that she would protect her so she did not have to fight. Childish naivete. I will always protect you with my life, she had said. Her eyes closed for a moment as the memories were dredged up from places they had been carefully laid to rest.

"Stealing. Torment. Such harsh words. I prefer... guiding," the Imp replied.

"Her eyes were the color of the sky," Pharah said, looking up into the horizon above the forested vista stretching beyond the ramparts. "You cannot be her." She drew another shuddering breath. Why am I so shaken by this? she asked herself. Despite everything she says and appears to be, she cannot be Angela. "You would not agree to come quietly if I asked you to surrender, would you?" She suspected she would simply escape from any holding they had available, but then she realized that she had nothing to even accuse her of aside from being uncomfortably close to her quarters. "I'm sure the there are a few citizens out there in the town who can attest to what you've done."

"I've always been a giving soul, as you well know. I give someone what they need, and then guide their soul where it needs to go once they've fulfilled their... purpose. It's always so much easier to paint the unknown with the guise of evil. Even I did it, when I was young and headstrong." Straightening her back when she saw that Pharah had risen from her defensive posture, she could not hide the growing smirk on her lips. "I can always assume the form that I once had, if it would make things easier for you." Almost instantly, her eyes turned blue, as vivid blue as any memories Fareeha could summon up. "But no, I will not come with you. Not for some false surrender. I am not here to fight you. I'm here to bargain with you. I need something from you. And you? You need many things from me."

"What could I possibly need from some imitation of... from whatever you are." A visible wince ran through her face, briefly closing her eyes before she turned her gaze down to the stones they stood on, shoulders sagging. Pharah was resolute and loyal, dedicated, and had lived her whole life that way, but this was where she was vulnerable. An unfulfilled promise she would have given almost anything to keep, a love she could never have. "What could I possibly need from you?" she half spat, half laughed at herself. She could easily entertain what others would want of her. If nothing else than strength of arms, she was practically an army until herself; she had broken entire sieges nearly on her own. Her position wielded political power. She represented an image to the people of honor and integrity. She was, as was often reminded, an avatar of justice. All of that, and she could not bear to look up on those so familiar features - the eyes that were playing at being ones she had longed to stare into years ago.

"Ah, I say I do not torment, and yet..." The blue eyes blinked, and when they were opened again, they had returned to the unnatural lavender hue. Her voice almost conveyed remorse, as if sorry for targeting such a deep wound. Almost. "Simply put, you need power. More than you already have. Because as remarkable as you are, you are not prepared for what is coming. I can help you see it, and fight it." Hooved boots clicked against the stone as she drew nearer. "As for anything else that you need from me, well, that will come later."

"What is coming? What do you know of the armies fighting against us?" Pharah said, looking to her again with distrust in her eyes. Even with what she knew, what she was embodying, she was not sure she believed there was a chance it was really Mercy, regardless of what she did to achieve such a state. "There aren't many who can match me, and most could not do it with twenty soldiers at their side. Power for the sake of power leads to abusing it."

"Yes, you are correct. There are few who can stand against you. And I know that you, even now, have your most trusted soldiers set to go with you to intercept the Talon ships." The rest of the distance was closed, her smirk changing to a smile, her head tilted faintly as she looked at her curiously. "With them, you may have no issue. What happens while you are away, though?" She was dangerously close. They could simply have reached out and touched one another, but the Imp's eyes simply held Pharah with a predatory gaze.

"The guard is going to have to maintain the peace." Pharah's dark eyes focused on her and warily swept over her. "They are all well-trained and well-equipped. The city's fortifications are largely automated." Flying had not been an option in many years at the heights and speeds traditional aircraft had once allowed, since bizarre auroras had overtaken the sky and threatened to bring down anything daring to cross into their territory that was larger than a person. Suits, like the Raptora, or the ones like Angela had once pioneered, could manage safe altitudes, but not travel nearly as swiftly. "You are trying to convince me to leave Annecy to fall? That is almost treason."

"Heavens no, your sense of justice is what makes you unique. It's what I admired about you when I knew you. I would never ask you to abandon that." The Imp seemed to have counted on that apex part of the Knight-Lord's personality. "If you'll indulge me, I can show you what I see beneath us." So near that the space between them felt immeasurable, she lifted up a black gloved hand and reached toward the knight's cheek, fingers recoiling tentatively before they made contact.

"Why in the hell would I trust you?" Pharah asked. She knew why her heart was dangerously close to saying to go along with it, but she had to let her logic win out. The tactician and commander had to be the part that made the decision, but she rarely had felt such need to fight against her passions, her heart. "And what does it possibly get you?"

"This part gains nothing for me. At the very most, it lets me touch you..." The darkly painted lips had curled into a smirk once more, her reach having paused scant millimeters from the bronze skin. "And I am well aware that there is no reason that you would trust me. That, you have made crystal clear."

"I... Fine." Fareeha knew why she said it, but she did not want to admit it. She winced when she spoke the words and her brain screamed at her to not be so foolish. "What is it you want me to see?" The hand settled against Pharah's cheek, thankfully muffled by the material of the glove. A moment after she touched, warmth radiated out from her fingertips. As soon as the heat began, a luminous shade of green began to flow about the Imp standing in front of her. She could feel a flush in her cheeks, bringing a russet color to her skin. How many times had she wanted feel Angela's hand... No, this still could not be her. She had to deny it for her own sake.

"I can see this aura with every being that has a life force. I used it in battle as High Priestess. It helped me to aid those most in need. When the life force fades, it becomes yellow and then red. When the soul sits dormant outside of the body, the stage before death, the aura is white. The soul is separate. A yellow sphere for most. Brighter, the more pure it is. Darker, going to almost blood red, black... the more evil." She reached out with her other hand to guide Pharah's head toward the fortress.

Silhouettes of green walking around, some recognizable and some not, moved through Pharah's sight. Some figures were unmoving, likely sleeping, with others wandering around and many gathered in the large hall that was their mustering area and hangar not far away in the heart of the fortress. The Imp directed her gaze downward, though, to the floor. There, there were more souls. Dormant and black. Distant but not nearly distant enough for comfort, lurking below the fortress.

"This is..." Pharah began, swallowing in concern at what she was seeing. "You could easily have engineered this show. You could have put those there. We have mausoleums, crypts under the fortress..." Several times, she had been down through portions of those dimly lit halls. Nobles and knights alike had been interred in the depths; she had seen the chamber reserved for the King, and there was even one for her, a gesture of acceptance from the King and his councilors were her homeland of Egypt to turn her away for some reason when her time came. "What even are they?" She was intelligent, of course, but she was not familiar with the biotechnology used by the priests, or whatever interpretation the Imp had adapted it into, and the signs were alien to her.

"Constructs. You've destroyed their like before. The souls are stolen. Their master, crazed artificer that he is, plans to use a bastardized ritual to awaken them. And they will target at a time that the fortress is most vulnerable." The gloved hand pulled away, taking with it the awkward warmth it had granted. "When their greatest warrior has left." The illumination and shadows of the souls faded away, the imp turning away from Pharah and walking back to the edge of the battlement. "And this is why I have posed my question to you. Which will you choose? Will you save Annecy? Or Eichenwald? You cannot do both without my gift. Without a bargain with me."

"They have to have been there for some time if they're so entrenched; what makes you so sure they'd attack now, of all times? We don't even know what actually triggers their revival; for that matter, I don't even think Talon does." The Knight's eyes narrowed, and she turned to look down the steps. A first tentative step was placed toward the steps back to the tower, but she looked back over her shoulder, eyes intense, pushing aside the misgivings, the fear. The longing for something she knew could not be real. "If you were really her, you'd know my answer already. I will find a way to do both."

"Yes, you would try. You would protect them all with your life. As you once said you would do for me." The Imp folded her arms across her waist, a subtle glare on the Knight. "And I could help you to do both. I could give you the power you'll need."

"I know it sounds like the sort of thing I go around saying," Pharah said, feet frozen in place as she bluffed. "I can split my men. The honor guard can make it to Annecy. I can stay here and..." Her tone darkened, hints of resentment and disappointment co-mingling, it seemed, "and fulfill Reinhardt's request that I not deploy myself. I'm sure he'd be pleased. Did Bridgette work this all out?" She did not resent him; she knew his judgment was excellent. It was that she chafed at her increasingly sedentary duties. Being a figurehead, a deterrent and an ideal alone, did not please her, and the King's advisor was an easy scapegoat.

"You think that I have been sent by King Reinhardt to tell you this to make you follow his orders?" The white and purple clad woman laughed, the pure sound that she had once heard from Angela when the priestess had heard something that amused her mingling with the wind. She turned and held out her hands. With a shake of her head and raised chin, there was no attempt to hide her derision; her arrogance. "To not take advantage of what you are capable of, such a paragon of justice, what you could be capable of with me at your side... I don't care for your King if he is such a fool." Her eyes blazed with intensity as she kept them locked on her. "But the choice is only yours. Let him keep you like a trophy or rule the skies. I could make you a goddess in the eyes of the people." She approached Pharah once more with far too much confidence, to trap her to the wall with her hands coming up to cup her cheeks. "Just remember, Fareeha. All you need to do is call for me. I will be waiting."

"Power always comes at a price." Pharah's eyes fixed on her. Why am I ceding ground to this impostor of Angela? Yet she could not deny that her body moved like, was built like, was all so impossibly like her. The words that conveyed knowledge no one else could have, woven so casually into her offers and observations belied the version of truth Pharah wanted to believe. "Why would I want to be a goddess? If you are the one who knew me, really, then you'd know what I wanted - to protect the innocent, to keep them from suffering while everyone else plays at war." While she had never shirked from the limelight, she was no hound for it, either, and great praise became too much far too quickly for her comfort. "I would prefer to fall. I will be remembered, and inspire people to fight for justice." The woman sighed, rubbing at her cheek and the tattoed Eye of Horus there. There was no effort to hide the old heart ache in her voice or face. "I'll see her again. The real Angela."

"No. You won't see me." The Imp turned abruptly away from her, leaving her against the wall as she walked away. She had given her the choice. The seed had already been there, and she had watered it with doubt. The longing she had pried out would serve as a food for it, she was certain. Her voice, her form, they belonged to Angela. The story that Mei had told, the things that she remembered, it all would add up and she was sure that it would force Fareeha to accept her bargain, her deal with what was no metaphorical devil. Pharah's shoulders sagged slightly, almost imperceptibly, as she watched her walk away. Spreading the phantasmal wings on her back, she vanished off the edge, only a quite hiss fighting the wind's howl to indicate she had been there.

No response came from the Egyptian.

Fareeha was a stubborn sort, much as her mother was, and it had led to her being a thousand miles from her homeland. Her need to protect had always driven her, and as the figure departed, a horrible voice rose up in the back of her mind. You didn't protect her and this will be the bill that has come due. She did not even register the responding growl that rose in her throat. She spun on her heel, marching down the steps into the tower. She had business to attend to if she was to make any effort to save the fortress and aid Annecy. There would be no surrendering. They would fight and win. Yet, the promise to herself felt suddenly hollow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No real commentary to add for this chapter.


	3. The First Eclipse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabotage and corruption come to Eichenwald. When does the cost of victory make it cease to be victory?

The Imp, as Angela had come to be known, lingered near the fortress. She had known since that day two decades ago that it was her proper title, and now, watching as the inhabitants prepared to send their warriors to protect Annecy, she could feel the tingles of power in her body from accepting it as her destiny. That destiny was one she had also known since that same moment long ago. Among the sea of glowing silhouettes she could see, only one held her interest - the one that belonged to Fareeha.

Despite the Imp's conviction, she had almost lost the courage to approach when she'd seen Fareeha again. In all the years that had passed since the end of the famed tournament where Pharah had won her right to be a knight and started her path to being renowned throughout Europe she had been hardened by war, but not much had changed from what she could observe. Fareeha was still stunningly beautiful. Tall, commanding, she was powerful and strong, just as she had been that day; even more so, perhaps. Knight-Lord Pharah was a legend.

'She was a radiant woman, not whatever devil you are.' Fareeha's words echoed in her mind.

_That's right, I am a devil._

The Imp held a clenched fist to her chest, heart throbbing at invisible pain searing her from within. _What did you expect, 'Mercy'_? Angela gave a bitter laugh, her jaw clenching as she forced back tears threatening the corners of her eyes. Her closest friends and colleagues had seen her as a monster before even the first visible changes of her dark bargain had manifested on her body. How could she have expected that Fareeha would see her in any way but that, as well.

For Angela, for the Imp, Fareeha was like the sun, obliterating shadow with its light. It could never accept the darkness that Angela had become. If she could just get her to agree, to accept the deal she was offering to her, then her long years of magical study and toil could give her the chance to finally be at her side.

Oh, how Angela craved the light.

* * *

To protect Eichenwald and also send aid to Annecy, Pharah knew she was going to need to divide her forces. Pure faith that what she had been shown was the truth would not do, but she could not ignore the possibility that it would happen, and there was a smouldering doubt in her heart that gave it credence. Making her way through the tower, she met her squire and donned the gleaming blue and gold Raptora armor. She spoke not at all, brow furrowed in deep concentration. Eichenwald's defenses were impressive, with emplacements in multiple layers around it, but they all pointed outward, and certainly not to the burial crypts and the canal that ran through the city. By the time she made it to the mustering hall with her rocket launcher at her side, her mood had only darkened further.

"The guard is going to be deploying to Annecy," Pharah stated immediately, addressing a gathered group of twenty soldiers that made up her personal guard. Men and women, clad in armor similar to her own, stood at the ready with their own weapons, their blue and gold patterns signaling their allegiance with her. "The militia is going to be deploying here in Eichenwald, responding to specific threats we have recently received. I..." There was a hard swallow, and her displeasure was evident to even those not familiar with her. "I will be remaining here, to comply with Lord Reinhardt's request to safeguard the fortress and citizenry."

There were no forthcoming objections; how could they. Anger was visible on her face, in her posture, and it was not a common emotion for her outside of rare disciplinary matters. As their commander, Pharah had saved all of their lives personally at least once in the past, and it was not hard to read the implications of her discomfort. A wave of anxious shuffling overtook them, before she sighed and gestured.

"I do not need to tell you the precarious nature of our lands at this point. We cannot afford to lose Annecy's allegiance, and we can scarcely allow our home to fall." Pharah moved over to the nearby planning table, glancing over the small glowing indicators of their armies laid out across Germany. It made her blood boil to see how few were reserved to defend the capital, but it had rarely been an issue in recent years. Conflict had been too spaced out and irregular along the borders, petty squabbles or uprisings of constructs, making it impossible to coordinate. And she was stuck in a fortress.

"Johann, if you'd like to give your benediction, please, the guard needs to leave immediately," Pharah said. With a wave of her hand, Pharah gestured to a young man in simple white armor with yellow and orange highlighting. The red and white cross in several places indicated his work as a medical priest from Zurich, just as Angela had been - not that he could have compared in talent and brilliance to the young woman, purely as a matter of objective skill even before the Knight-Lord's bias. Still, he was one of their first graduates in the aftermath of the destruction of the cathedral that they had believed was the end of Mercy.

When Johann finished the brief rites of blessing and encouragement for her guard, he followed them as they moved to leave the hangar. Pharah said nothing as they began their launch into the sky in formation outside of the chamber, with the priest following with a harness that allowed him to utilize the glide wings on his armor to follow easily. She tried to ignore the glances of concern that were sent over shoulders by several of them before they lifted away.

* * *

In a short time Pharah was seeking Mei. She crossed the fortress's grounds to the solarium, set high on the other corner from where Pharah's quarters were located. She did not go there often; she considered it sacred in a way, and a matter of respect for their visitor. The sun, streaming in, illuminated numerous plants among several small ponds with rocky shores. Slowly walking down the central path, she was careful to not let her armor touch anything or harm the life there.

"Knight-Lord," came her cheerful voice from the raised dais in the center of the room. Numerous desks and tables were arrayed about a chair that set below the bottom of a giant telescope set to observe the stars above.

"Mei," Pharah replied curtly. "I need to - I saw her. The purple woman from the rumors. I want to think it was an illusion, but I swear it wasn't a dream."

"What?" Mei's face mirrored the shock of her response.

"On the northern rampart, where it faces the wild forest," Pharah replied. "She tried to bargain with me." She dared not mention the impressions she had felt in the bedroom, but she was becoming more concerned they were no hallucination. A bitter taste was left in her mouth at simply having to say that she had seen her. The Imp's final words felt like a taunt: No, you won't see me. To the very end she maintained that she was Angela. Certainly she resembled her too closely for any comfort, but it was horrifying to think that the angelic priestess could have become the demon that had stood before her.

"She must not have known you very well," Mei said, a giggle escaping her at the thought. "What is she offering you, of all people?" It could all have been a ruse, something planted to bring the Knight-Lord down. To introduce any shred of doubt and try to tear her down would have made sense for any of their city's enemies. But who would have known to use Angela?

"Power. What do all people want?" The expression on Pharah's face drained some of Mei's humor, who tilted her head a bit, critically running her eyes along the armored woman from behind her glasses.

"Fareeha, I know you've been offered rank and power before. Not enough to look as unwell as you do now."

"Damn, I should have..." She should have known better than to try and put it past her that casually. Pharah rubbed her forehead, golden ornaments in her hair clinking quietly. "Her appearance was more unsettling than her words."

"I would agree, since you look like you've seen a ghost. Scaaary," Mei murmured. At the ill look that she got in response, she frowned. "A literal ghost?"

"Something like that," Pharah said, sighing. "The constructs, the ones that seem to reanimate on their own, what do we really know about them?"

"Well, they are much slower than normal constructs, prone to self-destruction that tends to injure anyone near them when it happens, and they somehow manage to spread their curse to active machinery and constructs," Mei replied, glad to change the topic even if she was not sure it was that much better a discussion to be suddenly having. "What triggers it, though, we do not know. Of course there are theories, but testing them is, I'm afraid, pretty difficult. I'd argue Talon, if they hadn't been seen fighting them before as well. But for now, it's something we cannot track down."

"She tried to show me that they're dormant, massing in... maybe below the catacombs. I am not sure she can be trusted, but I am staying behind. The guard will go to Annecy to help them." She set down carefully on one of the benches around the tables, the ornate crimson and gold of the furniture proudly showing its heritage from Mei's distant homeland to the east. "To be honest, I do not know if I can trust myself there. The offer she made, it was... tempting."

"You were really tempted by her offer?" Mei replied, blanching. "I cannot imagine what it was." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Who it was?"

"What do you mean who?" Pharah's eyes widened at the question.

"You said a ghost. Whose ghost?" Mei replied, setting her note pad down on the table.

"Someone I-" she began, before cutting herself off. "I stayed here because I am afraid if I went I would accept her offer, and I do not know what it would entail. And if I stay here, it will satisfy the King, and if something does happen, I will be here to protect the city. The guard is still strong, Annecy should be safe."

"I cannot tell what shocks me more, that you'd show fear of something, or that there would be someone that could call that sort of reaction from you," Mei said quietly. "Fareeha, you need to focus. Let it go. I've never heard of someone that was that important to you, so I think I know what would have had to have happened - and why you've rejected every single oath of love meant for you. If that's the case, you've been strong enough so far. You need to believe in yourself."

"Mei," Pharah started hesitantly, voice hushed.

"Yes, Fareeha?"

"It's the most painful thing I can recall in my life. Everything else that's happened, I could deal with and work around it, but this is one of those things that can't be fixed." The knight gripped her knees with her hands, gauntlet clad fingers pressing hard against the steel and carbon plating. "There is no going back and changing what happened. I broke a promise."

"We can't be perfect," Mei interrupted. "Fareeha, look at me." The knight complied reluctantly, and for a moment, Mei could see through the well-practiced guise that the Knight-Lord wore at all times to the long suffered regret. "I have always worried about you, ever since I met you. You seem too flawless, too ideal. Such things cannot exist without breaking, and because they cannot bend in the breeze, they snap. Believe it or not, this makes me feel better for you. Please, do not break. You will protect us from whatever happens here."

"You sound like you believe her prediction will come to pass." Pharah had visibly winced at her words, but nodded just the same.

"It is not out of the question," she replied.

"I will send a messenger to the king to see his estate is guarded properly," she said, standing up slowly. "I've already sent the home guard to check below, but it's not well-mapped from what I have been told, once you go below the royal crypts. Deadfalls and traps from older times." Then, she offered a faint smile. "Distract me. Have you turned up anything interesting in your studies of late?"

"Oh! I have found a lot of valuable information!" Mei grinned, launching into a lengthy explanation of her atmospheric studies over the last several weeks, and the things she had learned. Pharah found her enthusiasm, her passion for her real work, to be comforting, and when she finally wrapped up, she at least felt a fraction of improvement in her outlook.

* * *

Whatever benefit to Pharah's mood had been applied, it was quickly ruined when she left the solarium and returned to the war room of the fortress. Already waiting for her was a group of ragged local militia, uniforms askew and charred, their hair disheveled and blood on wounds seeping into the fabric.

"Knight-Lord Pharah!" one shouted out, before catching himself and bowing his head in salute.

"What happened to you?" she responded immediately upon seeing them. Quickly, she closed the distance to get a better look at their conditions. A healer was already there, working on some of them, while other the other two knights stationed at Eichenwald and their retinues had gathered and commenced discussions already.

"We patrolled down into the depths, but they were waiting for us." The man was clutching a wound at his side, blood trickling out. Pharah immediately deduced that there were internal wounds - broken ribs, possibly worse. Given the unsteadiness of his voice, it seemed likely that worse was appropriate. "I don't know if we woke them up or if they were already on the way, but they were tearing apart everything in their path. They just kept flinging themselves at the secured doors, exploding. They're almost to the armory."

"How did no one report this?" she replied, disbelieving.

"Knight-Lord," came a voice to her side, one of the knights looking up to her as he adjusted his armor and the sword at his side. True firearms, rocket launching weapons like Pharah's, and other arcane technology were expensive, so most carried backup weapons of decidedly more primitive design, if not excellent craftsmanship in the case of owners with high rank. "Something damaged the communication crystals. We can't send out messages or coordinate effectively. I've sent runners to gather all the guards and knights in the city, and to the King's grounds."

"Good, we'll need to push them back before they get anywhere more vital. The power grid or the water purification would be devastating." Pharah picked up her weapon. "Get the wounded to the cathedral hall, and see that it's barricaded against assault." She paused, and looked back. "Could you tell how many there are?"

"I... more than I could count, sir. I've not seen numbers like this, before." The guardsman looked utterly defeated, shoulders low and blood mixing with sweat on his forehead.

"Don't give up hope." She offered a smile that she hoped looked more convincing than it felt. In her mind, the doubt had grown into an icy dread. She saluted her fellow knights and the soldiers.

A shiver shot down Pharah's spine at the sudden sound of what instantly she knew was the Imp's laugh. It felt as though it were echoing through the room, but no sight of the source greeted her eyes. More odd was the lack of reaction from her colleagues. She almost hoped to see the lavender eyes lurking somewhere, to lend some reassurance that she was not imagining it. The pitch, that arrogance in the laugh; it was not just amusement. It was taunting her, and it was unmistakably that woman, or whatever she had become.

Fareeha almost wanted to call out but, quickly cut that idea off. What good would shouting at shadows do, aside from instill many of her soldiers with confusion and terror in what she knew was going to be no small number of their final moments. Instead, she nodded resolutely, pulling up a diagram of the fortress on the central table, the flickering hologram rotating slowly.

"The only access to the crypts as far as anyone knows is the main entrance across from the cathedral and the outer canal in the merchant district, which is covered in the heavy grates and remotely monitored. Since the wounded are already at the church, we will concentrate on holding a line there. Get as many of the people who are still in the town into the hall as you can, but only if you can't get them to the gates and out. We can't risk turning on the defenses, since the fail safes aren't operational any longer and we want to get people out." Nods came from around the table in response to Pharah's words as the holographic display of the city reflected her instructions in red and blue shimmering light.

"We need to find out if there is a source and shut it off; at the very least, we can trap them below if we collapse the entrance to the second floor of the crypt." She looked about at the knights and guard commanders who had gathered in the last few moments, arriving from various wings of the town and fortress as quickly as they could; not quickly enough, she knew.

"What I need is three soldiers from each group, and we will push in to try and bring down the ceiling. When that's done, we can clean up whatever is left outside and formulate a plan to secure things better and start emergency repair." Pausing, Fareeha looked to one of the other knights.

"McCree, I know this is your kind of fight, but I need to ask you to take care of something important. Can you get Mei out of the city safely? We can't let her be caught up in this, and let's not consider trying to explain it to the Chinese consul in the capital," she said. The tall, bearded man nodded.

"Reckon I can make it happen," McCree replied in his practiced drawl. "Can't say I'm itchin' to avoid the fight, but if it's what you decide."

"It needs to be done," Pharah said, receiving a nod from McCree in assent, though she could see the frustration in his eyes. "Thank you. Everyone, it's time. Let's move."

* * *

It took thirty minutes to assemble the group Pharah had ordered. Twenty too long, by her estimation. When they arrived, there were ten less than she had asked for. She did not ask why. She did not need to know. Veteran that she was, it took her aback somewhat. She'd fought against Talon, other kingdoms, raiders, and the speed the zombie constructs were attacking with made no sense. They were never so fast on their own, and yet they were so inexorable when they attacked.

Looking across the soldiers, she was again dismayed. Too young, too old, they were at least well-equipped, but not many with true firearms. She somewhat regretted sending off McCree, but she was concerned that what she'd asked was even possible. What she had been sent... She distantly wondered if her fame had made her a target. She had stepped on toes and others had felt she wronged them, even if she was dedicated to justice and always being truthful in her acts.

"There isn't much time, so listen carefully," she began, looking to them all. "I will cover from the air while I can and blast a path through, and we will then go into the first crypt. The Valkyrie gate will be brought down; everyone will carry a blasting orb from the armory. We will seal off the bulk of their forces to quarantine them, and then help fight the way back out to the church to clean up the court." She was met with nods, a surprising amount of enthusiasm at least greeting her. That was the upside of her reputation. People wanted to fight with and for her. _Perhaps_ , she thought, _we can pull it off_.

* * *

The Imp had not simply meant it as flattery when the former priestess made comparison of Pharah to a divine being. As the blue and gold Raptora armor glinted in the sunlight, it was a beacon above the crowded, embattled grounds below. Vaulting off from the ramparts of the fortress, her suits wings and engines had carried her far out across the town and out of the fortress's shadow in mere moments. Since the Raptora was powered by a complex magitech system, it would take a few minutes for her small troupe to arrive, and almost immediately, she sucked in a breath of frustration as she looked down. They were already nearly overrun; the lack of fast communication made arranging their soldiers and knights in what she considered proper time impossible.

Pharah knew there were bodies strewn about the courtyard, but the horde of constructs was a nearly solid writhing mass of machine. They were pushing forward against the armored knights, so dense it was impossible to tell how many there were. Eichenwald's remaining warriors were holding a line much closer to the stairs to the cathedral than she was comfortable seeing. Explosions, blades on metal, and gunfire created the staccato punctuation of battle, with the distinct scent of viscera mixed with chemical propellant and smoke permeating the air and even noticeable at the height Pharah flew. She took a deep breath of the unclean air. Her rockets could cause considerable damage, but she had no infinite supply. She had loaded herself down as much as possible, and still only had under a hundred shots of which to make use.

It was then that the sun, gleaming down on her, was obscured by clouds, and droplets of rain began to spatter against her armor.

"Probably not the best omen," she said. With the disrupted communication lines, she was the only one to hear her words. Then, her eyes widened as she saw the distinctive white, black, and purple of the one who had appeared before her on the balcony not long ago. The pseudo-Angela that the people referred to as the Imp.

No doubt it was better that she saw her then, rather than before her troupe had a chance to rendezvous with her. Far enough from the Eichenwald forces to still be out of sight, separated from them by a mass of the constructs and other buildings, the Imp stood atop the smoking form of a fallen construct. The unnatural wings were spread out behind her, and there was a staff held in one hand. Her other arm was stretched out before her, hand cupping one of the strange, smoky black orbs that she had identified to Pharah as a corrupted soul.

The lavender eyes looked up suddenly, and Pharah could feel them upon her. The Imp's hand snapped into a fist and the black smoke seemed to collapse in on itself, the faint hiss lost across the distance separating them. The eyes glowed, and she licked her dark, painted lips. It caused a shudder to run down Pharah's spine, and she knew that Angela, the Imp, had wanted her to see that moment.

"Did she destroy it? No, she's-" Pharah gritted her teeth, frowning in speculation. Not her Angela. It made no sense. She growled and turned, launching a small spread of rockets into the ranks approaching the line, robotic and magically animated bodies flying and being shredded. _She consumed it. She ate a damn soul_ , she thought with shock. A cheer rose up from the line; the unexpected help allowing them to press against the tide threatening to overwhelm them. She could not dwell further, the arrival of her troops at the base fortress's gate requiring her attention. More rockets flew, and more corrupted constructs were shattered or blown apart as she began to clear the path. Yet, she kept looking back.

The Imp certainly did not appear to be fighting on the same side of the constructs. Those that drifted too close or sought to approach her were the only ones to receive a response . When Pharah was able to catch a view of her fighting, it was the same smooth grace she remembered seeing many years ago. Healers were trained to protect themselves, and the fantastic invention that had been Mercy's Caduceus staff had served as her defense in many situations. She could still recall the sparring demonstration. Pharah had taken a chance and sneaked in to observe the young priestess she had become so enamored with. She seemed delicate, yet when pressed she could meet an enemy with the same vigor that any soldier did with both her healing arts and that staff, despite her abhorrence of violence.

That aversion, her dedication to pacifism, was gone. Even from high above, Pharah could see the wicked smirk on the Imp's lips when she struck those that dared try to approach her before they could even detonate themselves. Black ichor, oil and other materials, had splattered in places on the pristine white, seemingly of no concern to her. Pharah could also easily see the truth. She kept holding back. She was never the aggressor. She wasn't going to help. Not unless Pharah chose to come to her.

The knight tore her gaze away, unwilling to let herself stare any longer. Despite herself, for a moment her breath caught in her throat, as she recalled the movements of the Imp, spinning the staff toward her foe. She had drifted a bit lower than she intended and had to push back up with a soft burst of her engines. They could have been together like that for years, a force to bring hope, to bring quite literally justice and mercy, to everyone they encountered and protected, if only she had not had to leave. It was definitely not the time for that kind of thinking, though. She refocused, and let fly more rockets to scatter the mindless swarm and aid her soldiers in their slowing fight toward the the crypts.

Soon Pharah landed beside them, blasting more rockets into the doorway to create enough space for them to enter. The collateral damage already was rising, chunks of stone, wood, crystal, and iron thrown asunder and littering the area. It suddenly sunk into her mind as she started to move. There were indeed too many; she could not fathom how it'd been possible for these numbers to be slumbering beneath them.

"Form up; we'll push through!" Pharah yelled out, raising her fist to the sky. The soldiers responded with a ragged cheer and helped form a cluster alongside her. As she let fly more projectiles, she took stock. Half were missing already. It was not the type of reanimated golems she had dealt with in the past at all. They fought harder, not simply bursting if they were close to being disabled but instead thrashing violently beforehand, to do the most damage they could possibly inflict. Only the concussive force of her rockets was helping to kept them at bay. They were going to need to do something else; full evacuation most likely. "Get back and get everyone out of the cathedral, out of the city!" she yelled as loudly as she could. "Fall-"

A massive hook, like nothing Pharah had seen before, whipped through the air from the crypt's doorway, tearing through several of the nearby machines before she saw it pass. She looked over her shoulder quickly to take note of where it had landed, but before she had a chance to track it accurately, it snapped back and in a split second had closed around her pulled by what felt like an impossibly strong yank. She grunted in pain, the sheer brute force tearing at the Raptora armor. The Knight-Lord disappeared into the darkness beyond the chamber's arched doorway.

The former priestess could hear the strong voice suddenly cut off. A growl burned in her throat, rage surging up in her chest.

_No. That soul is mine._ Stubborn, to the end, Pharah had not called for her aid, for her bargain. She clung so tightly to her pride, her honor. _What good is honor if you die, Fareeha? I can offer you so much more than that._

Without hesitation, the Imp stretched out her hand and tore free the black flickering flame of a soul that shifted above the construct she had just driven her staff into. It was obliterated in a flash. On a cloven foot, she turned, yanking against one of the distant construct's twisted life force to pull with all her supernatural strength. Her white and purple figure shot across the courtyard and dove down into the darkness after Pharah - she would not allow her to be ripped away again, and she would not escape without giving the correct answer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feel free to comment or contact me with any constructive criticism or highlights.


	4. Charon

The crypts below Eichenwald were barely lit, the sconces on the walls either extinguished or barely clinging to life as their flames danced desperately near death. The gloom mattered little to the Imp as she dashed through the entry chamber. Lavish decoration, with gold and silver framing a myriad of colored paintings, tapestries, and religious texts decorated the room. None of it had escaped some sort of damage, rich detailing obscured by flames and many of the trinkets had been cracked or shattered by the mass of corrupted constructs that had passed through. Ages of heirlooms and trophies, falling into ruin in the blink of an eye. The Imp paid them not even that much of her attention.

The hallway of cut stone that led away from the crypt's front room split off after several meters, stairways descending into the depths at either side. She could easily see as she came to a halt and stopped to expand her senses that deep below her there was a flicker of life essence - Pharah's essence. The sihlouette that let her find both injured and corrupted souls alike was like a beacon, its bright core being eclipsed by orange and red, the signs of wounds taking a heavy toll as the body's strength ebbed. Her lip curled into an angry sneer as she looked down either set of stairs. Charred marks on the walls, and smaller pieces of the ancient stone pocked with holes marred the path to the left, and she knew after only a moment of consideration that they were the product of Pharah's rockets, not any corrupted construct's death throes. It was the small spatters of red, however, that truly held her eyes.

A distant series of rumbles reverberated through the halls, the acoustics making it impossible to precisely choose a direction for their origin, but something beyond the normal senses seemed to pull the Imp in the direction of the blood and so she glided down the steps, wings flaring out behind her and letting her speed faster than her feet would carry her on their own if she had been forced to step over the debris of the constructs. The passage descended, widened, turned, passing several branches that showed no signs of being disturbed, stone doors latched shut.

Agonizing minutes passed and she pressed on, deeper than the Imp could remember having been below the surface of the world in many years. The sounds grew louder, pausing periodically for reasons she dared not guess. It became easier to keep the Pharah shaped sihlouette in sight, as it grew more encroached upon by crimson. How far could she fall? The dread was welling up in the Imp's heart further. To have her prize, the thing she desired above all else in the world, snatched away after so much time, so much planning, was nearly unbearable.

Before the Imp even realized what was happening, an angry growl escaped her, and the staff, what had been once her Caduceus, whipped through the air, the barbs on its end smashing into the side of what served as one of the construct's head.

"Leaving trash in your wake. Careless, Pharah." The spite in the Imp's words was nearly tangible as she struck another, the strange, twisted forms of the broken machines unable to register shock as they were caught unawares by the strange being encroaching upon their watch. It was not Pharah who had been careless. Angela knew she should have pressed harder, somehow forced the knight to see the direness of her predicament. No further mind was paid, though, as she focused on the additional, shifting figures down a long, wide corridor. The sounds of battle were more clear ahead, and at the center, the light she knew stood opposite a light she did not.

Pharah cut a distinct figure in her armor, and the gleaming white-gold of her soul was unmistakable, so pure as to be uncomfortable to look upon. Chaotic, swirling red stood opposite her, something horrifically corrupted and easily twice her size with its bulk looming over her. It was holding her up off the ground, gripping one of her pauldrons. The Imp picked up her pace, tethering herself to more distracted constructs to fly through the air and close the distance. Some of those she passed she struck, others she simply shot past. Distracted, while some seemed to follow her with the optic lenses that served as eyes, many were oddly remaining motionless or beginning to shuffle back toward the surface. The knight had bought time, but it was only finite. She could see the tide behind the giant threatening to break through and join the throngs already above.

The Imp was forced to a halt, her hand raising to shield her eyes at a sudden, bright flash that drew out a yell of frustration. She was so close to reaching the room beyond, but was blinded as a cacophony of explosions erupted. The floor, the walls, even the ceiling shuddered, dust shaking free and creating a haze in the corridor. The ringing in her ears persisted for long moments after the sounds died down.

The robots she could see beyond her had largely been shredded. The trail of blood, larger in volume than she had seen as she descended, was broader, messier. She was certain if the remnants of the pulverized constructs had not obscured so much of the gray floor then the amount of red she saw marring it would have left her even more disturbed. A few final steps took her to the broken stone slabs of the doors where she had seen, could still see, the crimson of Pharah's spirit. It was fading deeper red, threatening to turn black as she drew near.

The giant monstrosity that had, the Imp was sure, grabbed Pharah and dragged her below too soon to be accompanied by her soldiers on her dangerous mission, lay shattered yards from the legs she could see sticking out from behind a supporting pillar in the room, ripped and burned into uselessness. The stone walls had partially fallen in, obscuring most of the far wall and, the Imp guessed, the gates to deeper places in the crypts, though the sound of metal on stone could be heard beyond; a temporary repreive.

"I said I would get to see Angela again." The voice was quiet. The weakness of blood loss was evident in the sound.

Mercy had heard people die before - it was no unfamiliar sound after the life she had chosen to live. The Raptora, Pharah's pride and mark of station in physical form, no longer gleamed blue and gold in the dim light. As the Imp crossed the battered stone and debris, far enough to see around the pillar at last, she made out the bloodied rents that were torn and burnt in the armor, deep enough to show similarly treated flesh. The former priestess was certain she saw the telltale white of bone in some of the wounds. The room, some sort of reliquary from the damaged decoration and iconography visible, seemed garish and yet Angela did not think it grand enough to be the dying place of Fareeha, particularly not with the damage done to everything in it. Nothing seemed untouched by the righteous fury of Pharah's weapons or the fanatical corrupted constructs that had been put to rest trying to stop her.

For the first time in years Angela dared not count, she was horrified at the sight of blood. It was Fareeha's blood. A sigh escaped her gritted teeth, and she tried to choke back a sound, a feeling that ages ago she thought she had lost the ability to express.

Truly, Pharah was a force that no one could have dared stop in the world on their own. Not even the King of Eichenwald himself would have wreaked so much havoc on the enemy as this woman who she had practically idolized, had yearned after and worshipped in her own admittedly twisted way her whole life. Yet there she laid, propped against pitted cold stone, barely clinging to the world of the living. Fareeha had won the battle. The war, though, was lost.

The dim red had overtaken most of Pharah's sihlouette, the spectral sight that the Imp possessed telling her uselessly what her eyes could plainly see. The Imp's glowing lavender eyes focused, brain finally registering the weak voice, and for a moment her face twisted into an expression of grief. Quickly, she pushed it away and replaced it with a stony glare. There was no time for feelings of weakness, yet even as she sank down to her knees by the knight with her face a mask of severity, tears gathered in her eyes, starting paths down her cheeks.

"You chose to leave me. Before. Reinhardt took you from me. I should have let you go to Annecy. I would have watched with glee while he was overrun. Now, his command seeks to take you from me again." The Imp's voice fought to maintain the smoothness she had used so naturally when confronting Pharah on the ramparts, a harsh crack threatening to break her tone and lay bare what was she was still trying to keep masked. The spite, however, would not be contained.

"Wasn't much choice to it, to be honest," Pharah said. The list of those who would give a distant-born foreigner a chance had been few, and Reinhardt's magnanimous nature had been everything the young Pharah could have hoped from the talk she had heard. "If- if it helps your heart, Angela, I wanted to convince him to invite- I-" But then, she knew of the letter. She fell silent for a moment, gathering what strength she could to just open her mouth and try and speak. It was futile, regardless. The letter never had reached Angela before that dark day when she had, as far as the rest of the world was concerned, died.

"Was it worth what you paid? The power?" Fareeha took a shuddering breath, eyes closing in a wince at the countless injuries it grated against. "I know it was forbidden, but I had sort of hoped I'd be able to be your knight, somehow." In the back of her mind, she cursed the long sealed away romantic youth within her - the youth that had adored, watched, even craved to be with a woman who was no more. "It doesn't matter now." She coughed, sticky wetness infecting the harsh sound. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise to you."

"You still could," the Imp said quickly - almost too quickly. She moved over her, curling her lithe form up against Pharah's broken body. Slightly shaking fingers lifted up, slowly peeling the knight's helmet away and letting blood and dirt stain her white gloves. "You could be strong. You could be at my side again." She licked her lips quickly, eyes widening slightly. "You could be a goddess. And I... I could worship you." She brushed her hand along a paling sepia cheek, smearing it with blood and ichor.

The filth of battle did not concern the Imp as she drew her lips down close to the lips of the dying knight. "I would give you everything you ever wanted," she whispered, breath gliding like that of a ghost over Pharah's lips, "if you just choose to join me. Accept my offer."

Pharah struggled to focus her eyes on Angela, but when she had her gaze met with her own, she gave the faintest, rueful smile. The price Angela had paid was conspicuously unstated. At the end, though, she supposed it mattered little.

"If it will set my last moments right, for you..." A pained, steadying breath was sucked in. "For my love, Angela, if that's really you, of course I do." Pharah's words were haggard, barely audible. Maybe the words could give peace to the woman she had loved, turn her back from whatever path she had gone down. She had to admit to herself, as well, that even if for a few final seconds, to be with Angela was the fulfillment of a want left denied the whole of her adult life. Blood seeped at the corner of her mouth, disturbing the lines drawn by the Imp. In that instant, the Imp could tell it was over, as far as any mortal would be concerned. The dull red aura of her life force, her health, ceased. She would not say anything else. The ochre eyes that were looking at the Imp were instead focused far beyond her - to nothing, but an odd, peaceful smile had come to rest on her face.

"So you agree, at last."

A breath left the Imp's lips, drifting over Pharah's, and curled into a smile that, had anyone been able to see it, would have been entirely too satisfied. A bitter, amused huff erupted from her, but it was quickly replaced by a laugh of victory that echoed through the room. Luckily, there were no souls there that could hear it, the sound far more terrifying than the Imp could register.

Angela leaned down, closing her mouth over Pharah's in a kiss, tasting her blood. Her other hand reached out to grasp at the bright white flame, the dancing essence of life, drifting out of Pharah's chest. She drew back her head, violet painted lips red with blood, and shoved her hand and the sphere down to Pharah's chest.

The orb sank in, and words left her, words in a harsh language that was not to be spoken by the mortals of the world as her lavender eyes went white. Then, her words abated, and she had but to tweak the power she had called upon and infused into the dying form of her love. Unnatural wind from the power gathered and manipulated caused black and lavender hair alike to fly wildly upward on its wings.

"Heroes never die!" The spell grew to its crescendo, forcing energy, power, into Fareeha's body. The Imp could see her form tense in searing agony, the pain of nerves roaring back to life, as things no longer meant to work were forced into activity, and flesh was forced to knit itself back into place and form. She could visualize the threads of the magic she worked, and concentrated on manipulating them according to years of study, fighting against the resistance to what she was attempting.

The Imp pulled, pushed, focused on the waxes and wanes of the energy, drawing out those eddies to steady them, until she finally could feel, deep in her soul, that it had clicked where it all had to go, and it had knitted into the necessary tapestry to accomplish her goal. The force around them steadied, hummed, gold light flashing and shrieking about them, and then fading. The room fell deathly silent, not even the scratching at the fallen wall's opposite side continuing.

"...For a price."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the question becomes 'what's the price?'
> 
> For pacing, some chapters are shorter than others, naturally.
> 
> As always, feel free to reach out to me if there are questions or constructive criticisms.


	5. Styx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life, forced back into the broken.

For a fleeting moment Fareeha thought that the pin point of light she saw was the welcoming embrace of a peaceful afterlife where she would at last, after her years of fighting, protecting, and serving others, be rewarded with the joy of seeing her love again. She could leave behind the violence and duty, her work done, and Angela, the real Angela, would join her. Finally, they would be together. The sprawling field of tall grass in the mountains, where they had had the luck to spend one single afternoon together in their youth, with its snow-capped peaks surrounding them, were such a vivid memory that she could see it before her. The blonde figure near a broad, leafy tree, arms behind her back in patient anticipation, grew clearer as the world came into focus. Then, the light grew, swiftly growing ever brighter and hotter.

It quickly reached a blinding proportion, and all the peaceful image she had conjured up was burned away. Feeling surged back into her limbs, the tingling of numbness as pinpricks of sensation swarmed over her like the march of a legion of ants. Fire seared through her in their wake, and agony inflamed her every inch of flesh. Burns, lacerations, broken bones all against their wishes rapidly began the task of clawing themselves whole again, fusing and realigning.

"Heroes never die!" Fareeha's ears could barely comprehend the voice, but knew it was the same angelic voice she had yearned to hear for so long and that had turned taunting and promising at the same time. "...For a price."

Fareeha was not sure whether it was real or hallucination, but as she felt the agony continue to pierce through her, she swore that she saw the ancient Temple of Anubis that her family had guarded for generations before her. It was then that she realized she was descending through the sky, wind whipping about her. For a moment she felt panic, certain she was going to crash into it and be pulverized to a state far worse than the wounds that were rapidly dissipating. The vision simply crumbled away, and only darkness greeted her eyes as she came to a halt, held in the air with no discernible surface to support her.

"Loyal to a fault. You’ve chose complicity in her history of willful errors. You had done so well, Pharah." The words reverberated, Fareeha's ears instantly ringing in pain at the penetrating power of the voice. Vaguely, she thought, it sounded like her mother, magnified a hundred times. "Did you even consider the consequences?"

A sudden, swift pain like a fist to her gut ran through her, and she doubled over as much as she could without any ground under her feet. Her head felt even worse, like the searing touch of magma poured over her, forcing her to grasp at the sides of her head, hands pressing against her ears and black hair.

"What good is the Eye of Horus if the bearer chooses to give in to evil? You insult its meaning. Instead of dying with dignity, you've chosen the 'honor' of joining a devil." The voice was steady, the growl gone, and instead it carried what Pharah could only interpret as deep disappointment. She could not yet begin to comprehend the connotations, however.

"And what'd it get me? Damn ‘consequences’! I was denied the one thing I loved in my life!" Unexpected strength lit her angry shout and made it echo among the bright light. She scarcely noticed the encroaching tears that had suddenly invaded the corners of her eyes. "We could have done so much good together!" There was no doubt that protecting and helping the innocent had been her calling, but that missing piece, the wound left to fester in its absence, had grown vast. It should have been both her and Angela, not just Fareeha left to navigate it all alone.

She got no further in her protest, an early terminus coming to the maelstrom of conflicting emotions that threatened to burst from her chest in a virulent tirade, when she realized that the bright light had faded away and her surroundings were again those of ruined reliquary far below Eichenwald.  She almost let her thoughts linger on those unexpected emotions, such an unusually potent animus for her that she could barely believe they were her own.  A more immediate need took precedence, however. 

Fareeha gasped, sucking in the befouled air of the tomb with a wince. A gauntlet-clad hand jerked up to clutch at her side where her armor had been ripped open to try and brace her bared ribs. At least, it tried. The unyielding resistance of steel and synthetic material made through the complex manipulations by artificers halted her progress - she recognized the scalloped contour in an instant. Her head was still spinning as she tried to orient herself, and when she opened her eyes, she was shocked at the sight of the figure before her. She hissed through her teeth to push the pain away, to drive it out of mind so she could take stock of her situation. She found that the pain had almost instantly receded without the need for trying to power through it.

Eyes of gold, eerily vivid with a soft glow from deep within, met Angela's lavender eyes, the eyes of the Imp.

"How?" Fareeha's voice was soft, barely making it past her lips. Her richly colored eyes with irises that seemed carved of precious metal held notes of confusion and anger. As Knight-Lord she had seen healers, and even in the order's weakness following the Zurich incident, the people who could mend wounds never could do it so quickly, and never from so far gone as she had been. She had not been merely wounded. Fareeha had been dead. _Maybe I’m still dead_ , she thought, clenching hands into fists to try and focus on the present and the eyes that held her gaze. "How can I still be here?"

The Imp's gaze, tensed and impatient with anxiety, softened as relief flooded over her at the sound of Fareeha speaking. Years of study and planning had finally come together.  The circumstances, though, had been anything but what she had been hoping. Fareeha was supposed to accept the contract she had offered, and she could have had the power to save the ones she had been charged to protect, then gracefully slip away to spend forever after with her, their lifespans free of normal mortal constraints and their strength beyond the reach of anyone to try and separate them against their will.  Instead, she had been frantically trying to call her back from death, expending the power garnered from countless souls. Fareeha’s acceptance at that moment, so critical and yet so terribly timed, had forced her to weave even more potent arcane power.  The exhaustion made her whole body feel leaden, but she saw the woman she loved and admired before her, whole again.  Her smile faded swiftly, anxiety clawing deeper. _That's right, you're still a monster to her_ , she thought.

"I told you. I won over death." _Ignore the pain. It will take time._ How long had it taken Angela to come to terms with the new reality of her existence when she had given up her mortality? _At least_ , she thought, _Fareeha will have a companion._ It was a luxury Angela had been denied. The angry confusion in Fareeha's eyes made her look away. To hide her discomfort, she started to move so Fareeha could have room to stand, and promptly swayed in unsteadiness, barely catching herself on the remnants of a pillar with a soft hiss. _How much power did I use?_ She knew it had been a tremendous amount, the sum of years of the Imp collecting souls by bargain or death.

Conversely to the Imp’s exhaustion, with a slow, deep breath Fareeha let her eyes close again for a moment. She huffed out the air and pulled herself upward to her feet, resting her armored hand on the scarred pillar beside her. It was scarcely needed for physical support. Instead, it braced her so that she could continue working out her strange situation in her mind.  The dissonance, the confusion of what she felt made her certain the unyielding stone was going to be a necessary aid for a few minutes.

"How can anyone beat death, Angela? It's nonsense." Fareeha looked to the unsteady Imp, and the slender, tall ears atop her head matched the change of focus without her notice. "It's not just that though, is it? You went beyond life and death. Why do I feel so…? I don’t even know what I feel." No words she could think of were appropriate to describe the odd mix of discord and relaxing familiarity she felt twisting against one another in her heart and abdomen.

For a moment, Fareeha opened her mouth in preparation to speak, ready to berate the Imp and herself, but it quickly died.  Fareeha knew full well the blurted-out words, her defiance, in whatever hallucination she had just gone through, were no lie. _How did I get so bitter_ , she questioned herself. _I wasn't treated poorly. I had gotten almost everything I had wanted._

"I betrayed my life's work. All of it, for my memory of you and the chance somehow in the hereafter it'd be real." It made no sense to her and yet it made perfect sense as she looked at Angela, eyes traveling along her as if analyzing her changed figure and its implications for the first time. "You may be Angela, but you're not the same Angela I knew." Her own thought rang in her mind. ‘Almost everything’ she had wanted. "I'm not the same Fareeha, then. I knew that the powers that changed you were evil, and I still accepted them."  She had to believe that as Pharah she would never have agreed to such a thing.  There was sense of desperation behind the thought, her attempt to convince herself that she had been noble, unable to fall into such a selfish choice.  Noticing Angela’s eyes still upon her in what she could only assume was uncertainty, the Imp unsure of what to expect, she pushed back the thought.

"You're exhausted. Are you going to be all right?" Fareeha’s expression softened slightly, frustration and confusion receding.  It would do no good to argue now, but the weight of their choices was beginning to beg consideration.

"I'll be fine." The Imp had expected the confusion.  She had expected fear and anger, rage even - concern threw her off guard completely, her words slow and hesitant. That stare, so intense and judging, left her breath catching in her throat. She could hardly bear it, looking away, unable to keep the warmth from creeping into her cheeks.

"Do you know the consequences for my agreeing?" A taut frustration colored her voice, but she managed to restrain it to keep herself grounded. "Or is that something we just find out as we go?" She imagined the Imp had some input or control, but she was unsure as to the extent. The concern lingering for Angela was not something that should be given any thought, and she told herself she could not fall into the trap of acquiescing to desires of her heart so easily. She turned her attention to the hallway that led out of the room.  Suddenly, she became aware of just how deathly quiet it was. The sound of the constructs, of battle, even those corrupted beings that had been idling around the room were gone.

"Yes, I believe I know. I had to formulate the price owed for power into the spell." Angela looked at her again, worry seeping into her face and posture, shoulders slumping slightly. The doubt stubbornly lingered in her mind concerning the mixing of such potent types of magic in ways not intended. _No, everything was planned perfectly. They shouldn’t have interacted and affected each other._ Still, the Imp knew that what she had done was an experiment with powers not normally manipulated by any mortal, or even those like she, and now Fareeha, had become.

"Certain parts I omitted. Normally the infusion of power gives a measure of control to the demon issuing it. The degrees vary.  The more complex part to omit is the need for consuming quintessence." The Imp took a deep breath and pressed her lips together in a line. "The compulsion was surprisingly easy to discard from the formula.” She gave a pained look, biting her lip.

“I don't want to control you. I never did. All I wanted was to be side-by-side with you." Still, it was untested theory, the magic the Imp had woven, and doubt lingered in the back of her mind. "So if I told you, for example, to stand on your head." The words held a hint of command, and she instantly regretted even testing the idea. It would have been better to have never known and never tried to even test it. Fareeha did not deserve to have anyone that could simply tell her what to do regardless of her will.

All the tentative command drew, though, was a quizzical look and a shake of Fareeha's head.

"I mean I can do that, but I don't think this is really the time or place." Fareeha shifted and leaned back against the pillar to an audible sigh of relief from the Imp, cool stone against her back. It made her realize her armor was no longer present despite moments ago having been encasing her body. It had simply faded away, and she found herself simply dressed in a flowing black top, matching loose-fitting pants, accented by a gold sash and trim. As she examined further, she frowned. Her fingernails, once cared for much as the rest of her carefully managed appearance, were thicker and longer, having grown claw-like and, as she tested them with a quick rub at her fingertips, she realized they were quite capable of causing injury.

"I really am different now." With a short squeezing of her eyes shut a moment and a tightening of her jaw, she once again sought to focus.  She could feel her anger, her resentment, trying to boil and escape. "More important, we need to get out of here and check on the people, on my soldiers. Where did the constructs go? They can't have just left us."

"Listen, Fareeha, you need to know this.  You shouldn't need to devour souls, as I must, to sustain your energy. You should be fine with normal food and drink to keep you sustained," the Imp said. She did not want her to go on with the impression that she needed to perform the same dark acts that she did to survive.  The memory of learning her own price brought a sour taste into her mouth, and she shook her head to clear it away.  "I may have thought about Anubis a bit more than I intended. Too literally, perhaps." She had noticed the tall, tapered ears atop Fareeha's head, even if Fareeha herself had not yet. Then, she fortified herself with another deep breath, fixing Fareeha with a steady gaze.

"The constructs have little attention to give to those who are not human." The Imp said it as if it were perfectly normal and natural.

"I understand." A huff escaped Anubis as she ran a hand through her hair and along the back of her neck. So, they did not even qualify as human anymore. _Fantastic_ , she thought. _Dead, disappointed my ancestors, and gave up my humanity in one day._ With a glance to Angela again, she willed herself to stop leaning against the stone and move. They could not just stay there and contemplate. "I need to see if anyone needs help up there, or some of them might have gotten away. I just know I need to get up there and out of here." A tomb was far too appropriate for what had just happened for comfort.

It was not just the atmosphere of ruin and somber loss.  It was beginning to get stronger in her heart; a tug at something inside of her, telling her to try and go help whoever was left. It felt awkward, though, as she did not quite get the same reliable direction she had been so used to from her sense of duty and justice. Her compass was off, even if it seemed to be only subtly.

With a nod, the Imp turned, gesturing for Fareeha to follow. "Your changed purpose is not so dissimilar from what you already sought in life, but I think you’ll better understand if we go back to the surface." With the loud clicks of her steel cloven boots, she started the long trek out of the tombs.  Wordlessly, Fareeha walked alongside her.  It continued in silence for a time.

"Is this really the only path you could find to me?" They had been walking several minutes before Fareeha spoke, and despite her best intentions, her mind was still warring with the things she had already learned and the faint, strange fuzziness she felt in her chest. "You left me thinking you were dead for longer than I want to remember."

"I thought I was better off dead," the Imp said, voice grim. "I'm sure there are plenty who would agree." She closed her eyes in a faint wince before she continued their walk up the stairs from the crypts. "I was too weak, and I..." She sighed faintly, sounding tired and defeated, despite that she now had Fareeha with her. "You called me a monster when I first saw you. It would have been the same then." A dismissive huff escaped Fareeha in response.

"You were very specifically haunting me. What was I supposed to think?" Exasperation filled Fareeha's voice as she continued to trudge up the steps. "And after twenty years." She came to a stop and spun on her heel, eyes alight in an angry glare. "Nothing until that? I spent all that time, thinking you were dead under a mountain of rubble. Gods above, I laid awake at night and I could see it, the blood, the-" She cut herself off and took a deep breath slowly, reining in her outburst. "And you show up thinking you need to bargain with me, to tempt me somehow. I don't know what happened over the years, but do you really remember me? Did you look at who I'd become since you had been gone?"

"Of course I did! A hero, incapable of being swayed. A resolute warrior. Loyal - to a fault, I might add. Filled with justice and righteousness. Are you saying you wouldn't have called me a monster, even then? My closest friends certainly did." Angela's exasperation and bitterness became apparent, mirroring Fareeha's.

"Your friends weren't me." Fareeha had already turned and resumed the way up the steps again, using the rhythmic movement to quell the tremor in her voice. It had left Angela frozen in place, the guilt almost physical as it tried to break through her chest. "I did good in the world, despite how I felt every day. It was the right thing to do and it felt good but it never could heal remembering what happened to you. Every time I thought I finally had come to terms with it, you were still there." There was a brief pause as she took more steps. "And now you really are here, but it's cost everything. How many people am I going to find alive out there? Will people work out what happened?  What will they say of me if they learn I turned my back on all I had done for the sake of a fallen priestess?  A literal devil?"

"What did our good deeds matter?" Angela asked bitterly. "Where was their praise when we wanted to be together? Where was their support when we asked for just a chance at being happy?" Would Fareeha really have accepted her? The Imp swallowed forcefully, trying to squash the emotion still threatening to well up as she continued after her.

"Innocent people benefitted from the things both of us did. That's not something to just throw away." The words almost seemed to be spoken by rote, ringing hollow in Fareeha's own ears. "Honestly, it’s not really something I think I want to talk about.  Not now." Halting in her steps, she looked ahead into the entry chamber she had been dragged into, beginning the final part of her journey to the end. It was littered with debris and bodies. Pieces of armor torn free, broken and scattered weapons, and the distinct smells of blood and oil filled the room. Her soldiers had tried to go in after her. Her head tilted as she ran a curious, sweeping gaze over the room. Nothing came to her at the sight of the loss of life.

"Damn it." The curse was barely audible.

The Imp, coming to a halt next to her, cared little for the dead. Her concern was for the pain she saw in Fareeha. _How far you've fallen_ , the fragments in her mind cried. _She would have been distraught before, but look at her now!_

"I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this." Glimmering orbs, flickering with ethereal flames, hung above bodies or debris, marking what had been whole people and constructs. If Fareeha was honest with herself, the orbs had been the first thing she had seen, but she had desperately tried to pretend she did not notice. The bodies took precedence; they had to be her focus. They were her colleagues. Her soldiers. They had trusted her.

Yet the draw of the souls was all Fareeha could manage to focus on. She had done her best to try and summon up the concern she knew she felt somewhere within for her lost comrades. The agony was not for their loss. It was at her own inability to feel what her logical mind told her she was supposed to feel. Even that fell away.

"Just waiting here, to go on to wherever they're destined to go." Suppressing the shiver that ran down her back, Fareeha looked back briefly to Angela. Realization bloomed in her mind suddenly, and she closed her eyes, turning back. "So this is what you wanted. Not just a companion like Anubis.  You wanted a literal Anubis." 

"I had to come up with a price. All bargains demand something, and you held justice as the greatest ideal. And I still remember sitting with you and talking about your homeland and its ancient religions. The temple your family protected for generations. The god it honored." The Imp paused, staring at the souls for a moment, before forcibly tearing her gaze away from them, the exertion evident in her quickening breath. "And then the goddess that was his companion."

"Ammit." Fareeha sighed softly, giving a glance with eyes tinged with anger. "What a waste of how good a person you were.  Ammit was… is a demon.”  Again, she bottled it up.  It was not the time.  “Maybe you've become that monster. I don't feel like I'm so noble as Anubis, though." Extending a hand, she felt a twinge in her palm as one of the souls drifted to her, dancing through the air and casting its orange hue against the stone floor and ceiling.  She did not feel as if she was worthy enough to be such a being, and yet, the way the souls seemed to yield to her will felt appropriate.  It was as it should be.

"Demon. Suitable then, isn't it," she said, stepping back against the wall, taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it, trying to calm the hunger that was building. Her excitement was growing, too. It was happening. Her Anubis was here. The souls were reacting, answering to her.

"A funny thing. Is this what's really left of us when we die? Just a formless essence that gets carried away to some place we can't comprehend." Fareeha let it settle just above her hand as she turned her hand, cupping it from beneath. "We're unwanted intruders in the process, aren't we?" Lifting it closer to her, she looked at it with a critical gaze for a few long moments.

"I was always an intruder," The Imp said quietly. "My time as a priestess was spent trying to prevent death. Even with you, I intruded. I could not let you go." There was a tremor in her voice, excitement and the past tugging at her.

"If I take your word for it, that you didn't choose to have to eat the souls of people, and that it was forced on you," Fareeha said, looking back at her with the soul at her chest, "then I'm sorry it had to happen that way. You were too... you were too much you, to deserve that."

"No, I didn't choose it, or enjoy it, at first. But I have changed, Fareeha. It's pointless for me to pretend I haven't." Despite feeling her bitterness, the Imp was well aware of what she'd become. She stopped herself short of telling Fareeha not to be sorry for her. Fareeha still had some kindness left, and she wouldn't begrudge it.

Fareeha- no, she was wholly Anubis at that moment- fell silent, golden eyes back to the soul that contrasted their shade with the darker orange flame. She shook her head quickly, blinking rapidly and half-stepped back. The wary gaze shifted back to the Imp. "This person was someone I knew. I would never have expected he would be this type of person. I saw most of it. Felt it." A tired sigh passed her lips and she extended her arm, holding the soul out to the Imp. "He’s yours, now."

The Imp watched her quietly, not reaching out immediately for the soul despite what she had said. When she did, it was tentative. She stepped closer, both hands coming out to carefully accept it. Fareeha's nature had always been to protect; it made her great and well-respected, a paragon of virtue. It would be a difficult price, but such was the way of bargains for power. Angela knew that all too acutely.

"Take it." Fareeha's voice cracked faintly as she pushed the soul into the Imp's hands, but she kept her eyes locked on her. "Go on. There's no use pretending this isn't what we are. Don't hesitate and give me time to ponder this." This was what she was tasked with, she had decided, and so there was no value in debating it in the moment she needed to act. There would be time later to argue it, to sort out her resentment and the other lingering pain she felt writhing in her heart.

The Imp let out a soft breath and finally took the soul from her grasp, and without hesitation her fingers curled against her palms. Just as she had done on the battlefield, this time Fareeha was close enough that she could hear the soft hiss as the soul writhed and folded in on itself before it winked out of existence, gone forever. A faint measure of relief washed over the Imp's expression, the faintest portion of her strength returning. She closed her eyes and breathed out again.

Fareeha turned back to the other souls. The first was done. At the battle, before she had died, the soul had been briefly visible when the Imp took it. The burden in the back of her mind, the weight of handing it over, felt so much more profound. There should have been more guilt at essentially condemning it to a permanent destruction. He had not been a good person, true, and in fact a relatively despicable one, but he had still been a person and delivering him straight to oblivion was well outside what she should have been comfortable with. The chill calm radiating through her, though, seemed to suppress her old conscience.

"There are not many left in here. The fully corrupted ones must fade away quickly." It left only red and orange life essences, some of them even still dancing yellow and strong, clinging to the world. She picked up another. Another individual whom she had known, and only after they were gone had she known their full measure. Another who had not lived to the standards of a just life that Anubis had formulated without realizing. She turned, arm out, holding it toward the Imp again. Fareeha's eyes watered only slightly, as her instincts seemed to grow stronger and guide her.

The Imp knew it was difficult. Really, difficult did not even come close to describing what she thought Fareeha was feeling. The sympathy she felt toward her was wholly unexpected and dissonant with what she had become. For Fareeha, though, she had always felt emotion that she had believed long erased. It had surely grown twisted and warped, yet there was still the kernel of purity to what she had felt for her, the connection they had formed even in only a short time where they had been together. As she accepted the soul, she dared to let the back of her hand to brush against Fareeha's palm as she reached out. It was a risk, done so soon after the total upheaval of her love's entire existence, but she felt that she had to convey somehow that she wanted to comfort her, and that she would do it in any way possible. She fully expected her hope to run headlong into rejection.

Instead, a worn expression crossed Fareeha's face as she watched her, the downturn of her lips mirrored in her eyes as she let her take the soul. As the Imp consumed it, destroying another essence and feeling the familiar rush of invigorating pleasure and energy, Anubis's eyes closed briefly before she turned to the next flickering orb, a vibrant yellow.

"You want me to acknowledge how I feel about you?" The question was quiet as Anubis held the yellow soul and looked into its glowing depths, the secrets something only she could interpret. "How much I loved you? What does it make me, Angela, if I do that? After what we've become, to admit even now I might still feel that way? Admitting it somehow is all just fine, justified."

She shook her head. "No, you don't have-" She cut her thoughts short, her fingers rubbing against the back of her hand where the warmth still lingered. She looked away, unsure of herself, of what to do. The confession that Fareeha still loved her should have made her heart leap for joy, and instead she was still paralyzed with fear.

"It hurts, Angela." Raising her hand, she lifted the soul up above her head and watched as it glimmered and shook. With a soft glow, it lifted higher, leaving her grip, and then was simply gone. "Most of all it hurts to see what you became." Another soul drifted to her open hand, pulsing and yellow like the last. "Maybe it's what you had to become. But if I let myself accept that was what had to be done, I'm condoning the sins you've committed."

"Had to become?" The Imp took on a sharp, lilting edge. "Yes. If destiny is to be believed, it was the way to power. With it, I wouldn't have to listen to the Order." She looked at her again, a fiery glow lighting in her eyes as the bitterness and anger washed over her. "It started out innocent, you know. I wanted to save lives, to prevent war, and death. You would never have to fight again and we could be together." She shook her head, and her rising ire forced her to begin a fevered pace in the space that she had. "But with each discovery, each time I grew, they wanted more, and they misused it to fuel war, not ease pain and give comfort." The frustration had pushed her expression dark, eyes narrowed as she paced around Fareeha. "It was the same with you. The more powerful you became, the more they wanted of you. Protect, and serve. Always their wants, and their needs, what we could do for them."

"Was it so bad to do good things that helped others?"

"What of us?" Angela's growled words of response were quick, harsh. "Do you know what the Order told me? They told me it was forbidden. That I could not love you. 'But Mercy, my child _,_ all of the Order choose celibacy and piety, not the short passion and sinful lust of romance.' After all that I had fought for, I did not have permission. To love. They called it a childish fling! I was so much more _useful_ focusing on my research." Each mention, each thought of being referred to as a child brought a deepening to her scowl and grew the frustration in her voice as she spat out the words.

"I admit, I dreamed about the good we could have done; the people we could save and protect. The fame was nice, too, but it would have been wonderful to be..." Anubis let out a sigh as she paused, searching for the right word. "To be the ones everyone looked up to for hope. Together, we could’ve been beacons for everyone and traveled together to make the world better." Her voice remained quiet, the faint tremor in her will almost completely masked. "There will always be people who want to use others, but the good ones are always in short supply," she added with a shake of her head.

"And where was that chance to be a pair that everyone looked up to? We were never able to take that chance." The Imp's outburst seemed to let her anger deflate somewhat, the rage given an outlet, and she looked away. Even so, her hands were shaking at the recalled memories.

"We need to move on. I need to see if anyone survived. I need to do this duty I've accepted." Fareeha's jaw tightened, teeth grinding together for a moment. _No_ , she heard in her mind. W _e don't care about the living. The souls are what is of importance. Those are the currency._ Heard? It was her own thoughts. Her voice. Anubis. The shock of the realization showed on her face for a fraction of a moment before she brought it under control and brought herself back to a neutral mask.

The Imp had already started up the steps to return to the courtyard. Only Anubis remained. It took the former Knight-Lord several long moments to convince herself to turn and leave the chamber, her hands coming up to hold and comfort her head in confusion. For the first time, she felt the smooth fur of the pointed ears, yet it seemed pointless to even be concerned about the change to her body. The way her form had changed was odd and would cause no end of problems, she was sure, but the way her mind was discarding concerns she had known for years and held deeply in her heart scared her far more. The way she was drawn to take up the souls she found and pass judgment, like she was meant to be some deity. What right did she even have to do such a thing? She tried to ask herself the question in her mind. It quickly became the voice of her as Anubis, instead. _What makes you think you're unworthy of such power?_ She found herself very quickly beside Mercy again, as she stepped out into the courtyard.

The sight that greeted Anubis’s golden eyes took her breath away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Conflicting emotions. Whee.
> 
> The next chapter should be in a week or two (hopefully one).
> 
> As always, we love constructive criticism and the like.  
> http://a-world-off-keel.tumblr.com


	6. Ma'at

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Costs slowly come into focus; the tip of the iceberg.

A sea of shifting gold, orange, and red souls, like so many candles and decorative lights cast a haunting glow over the cut stone of the Eichenwald courtyard. The stores, restaurants and rival beer houses, even the arching gothic cathedral all showed the signs of massive burns and concussive force that had reduced parts of their facades to rubble with stone and wood strewn about the mechanical parts of the self-decimating constructs and the remains of dozens, in fact hundreds, of people who had once been Pharah's soldiers, charges, some who were her friends. Flames of a more natural sort still danced in some of the buildings and within the cathedral, which had seen its great stained glass windows shattered down to the last.

It seemed pointless to even speculate what had happened, but it was not hard for Fareeha or Angela to deduce the details in the back of their minds. When the corrupted constructs had filled the courtyard full, and surged into the shops and where the soldiers and knights were making their last stand, the constructs had simply begun to detonate in clusters, the force not quite felling the ancient, reinforced stone, but enough to crush the survivors. Even far gone as the Imp was, it dredged up memories of the devastated cathedral at Zurich. She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment to try and suppress the horrific images of the past, then looked up at Fareeha.

"I'm sorry." Angela sounded sincere in her apology, even if she felt it horribly inadequate even as she spoke it.

Anubis’s golden eyes were focused on the souls, though, and had entranced all her sensory range. Fareeha could swear she felt them calling her, an ear twitching as she felt them reaching out to awaken her blood to its purpose. Try as she might, pouring her conscience into fighting her newfound instinct, she felt her hands trembling. She could not tell if it was an eagerness or apprehension of the instinct roaring within.

"Let's finish this." Fareeha reached out, briefly tentative, a cautiousness almost immediately pushed aside with a more experimental exertion of her will. Sure enough, the simple thought of donning her armor brought the black and gold pieces into being on her forearm. Another moment, and she was clad in the full protective shell of her vastly changed armor, even the helm in place with its jackal ears and extended nose. "This is the end. You understand that, right? Someday, someone will stand and judge what I'm about to do, and find my soul unworthy for the choice I made. Unworthy, because I think I should judge others.  I need to judge others."

"Mine's been unworthy for a long time." Angela briefly shut her eyes, the weight of her response made so reflexively, so intuitively that she almost surprised herself. Of course she knew it was the case, her changes much more matured and settled into the core of her being. Long ago she had lost the right to be called 'Mercy'. She was the Imp. When she opened her eyes, she only felt impassiveness. Her obsessions, her choices, her failures, her victories; everything had surely painted her soul as black as night, and she rarely felt any remorse. Certainly, her humanity had burned and was little more than ash.

Anubis's wings ignited with the deceptively cool glow of the magitech ingenuity that allowed them to carry her in the sky. The dark figure was carried into the air with a speed and smoothness that surprised her, and quickly she was dozens of meters above the stones below. The wings spread and shifted their angles to assist her in hovering in the spot she had chosen, her armor alight with the reflecting beams of the descending sun just barely peeking above the walls.

Looking out over what seemed an entire sea of souls below her, Fareeha considered how many she could draw in and properly evaluate at a time. What were the limits of her power over them? She even pondered for a moment if she could simply release them onward, before realizing she had no desire to let them slip through without her judgment - She needed her chance to decide their worth.

The Imp watched her rise into the air with all the reverence borne of decades of infatuation, of obsession. She had dreamt of the time that they would be able fly together from the first time she had learned of what the engineers had made for Pharah, a wonder that had helped grow the legend that was the Knight-Lord. It surprised her, the enthusiasm that suddenly rushed through her and mingled with the already fierce warmth in her chest at seeing the woman launch herself, gleaming and beautiful, into the air, and she quickly leveled her staff, letting it latch on to the spiritual presence that was Anubis.

Angela did not want to hurt the tenuous balance, the nascent being that Fareeha had become by expressing outright joy and yet she could not force away the grin that spread on her face as she soared up to her. They were together, in the sky. The heavens accepted them. 

The cautious guarding of her emotions seemed unnecessary.  Fareeha reached out, entirely absorbed in the siren’s call below as the Imp rose to join her, her own hand stretched toward the souls. Slowly they began to shift and shudder, like the wind was flowing among them and gaining pace, and after a moment they began to rise. Those closest to her came first and more directly, multicolored lines tracing in the sky, while the others began to fall in a wide tangle behind, and soon it had become a blazing bonfire into the evening sky.

It felt so simple; they just acquiesced to Anubis’s will, coming up to join not just her but inadvertently the one who would destroy many of them as well. It would have struck her as foolish if not for the way her heart made it feel right, terrifying the waning protests of the part of her mind she identified as her conscience. After all, did not moths find themselves drawn to flames, resulting in their doom?

As they began to reach her, Fareeha shifted her hand slightly and the souls began to settle about in a slow, lazy path around them. They flowed like they were drifting in a river, small eddies and currents causing their flow to speed and slow randomly. All it took was a light touch with her hand and she had decided for a soul. They seemed to respond accordingly. Some rose up above, continuing the drift above the pair, while others began to drift down to the surface again. Some of the falling souls shook or oscillated wildly, others simply glided. Minutes passed, the eye pieces on Anubis's helm gleaming gold the entire time, mirroring the light of the souls.

The Imp looked a bit fascinated with the process, and thankfully the hunger was not as intense after the first soul.  She hovered close to Fareeha - no, she was Anubis, more than Angela had ever imagined, at that moment - and took in the sight of the orbiting souls surrounding them. It was brief; she quickly fell to examining Anubis, instead, lit as she was by the different hues of the souls.

"Don't strain yourself," Angela said, concern tinting her voice.  There were questions still as to how Fareeha's newly gained abilities would work since the Imp had painstakingly engineered the nature of the bargain to avoid the necessity of devouring souls to fuel her.

Anubis, though, did not know whether she was straining herself or comfortably within the boundaries of her power. She felt the drain as she exercised the energy to perform her task, but she felt so aware, so awake, that it seemed she was far removed from the point of exhausting herself as she guided the souls. It took long minutes to sort through what she knew was hundreds of souls, but finally she found them sorted. Those above, with a simple glance upward and the upturning of the jackal emulating helmet's nose, began to simply thin and fade away, inaudible in their departure against the wind. Each gave a soft wink of light as it fully faded away, and after a short time, they were gone, their show of lights a memory. The ones below, however, an angry cluster of red, orange, and yellow that still seemed to burn like a bonfire, remained.

She looked up at Anubis intently, moving away slightly in front of her now that they weren't encircled by the souls. "How do you feel?"

Pulling up the helm, the piece of armor fading away as she did, Fareeha looked at her, expression quizzical for a moment. How did she feel? She didn't know what she even was, much less how to feel. The sheer enormity and perversion of it all struck her head on.

Fareeha laughed. It was a simple giggle that morphed into breathless, wracking laughter. Her form drifted down, and she had to struggle to keep herself from crashing like a meteor.

When she had touched down and steadied herself, surrounded by the remaining souls, she laughed again, and there were tears in her eyes.

Angela could only sigh, and instantly understood that it was not a laugh of any kind of relief or joy. It was not the sort one could share in amusement.

Floating down to where Fareeha stood, the Egyptian’s hand over her mouth as she tried to stifle her laughter, Angela could not remember whether she had had such an outburst when she had changed as well. Very little of those first few months were clear to her any longer, but the Imp that she had become would not be surprised.  Had that really been Angela she remembered, a distant memory of sobbing in agony while hidden away in some shadowy retreat? After all, had not her fate been a great joke on her? Still, he could not help herself. Reaching out, she found her hand cupping Anubis's cheek, turning the watery, laughing eyes to her.  In those early days, she had feared she had totally miscalculated, and would never be able to see or touch her love again. Rarely had Angela been so happy to have been proven wrong.

"I knew most of those people. You know, I don’t think I wanted to know them that closely. I saw details, things they did good and bad… I should have just died in peace and said no. Or I could have agreed to begin with, I don’t know." Fareeha's voice finally broke through the hoarse laughter, and her hand joined the Imp's. "You fucked up, Angela.  None of this seems possible, what you did, how you left me alone all this time.  I’m furious, but I can't even stay mad at you. And then I just run face first right into the same trap." Laid along the tops of Angela’s hand and taking in the contact for the first time, she faintly acknowledged how so oddly similar their hands had become. No longer quite human, they instead were accented by elongated, faintly thickened claws that Fareeha was sure could easily cut skin. "I'm so angry at myself that I don't know what to do.  I’ve gone completely crazy; I feel fine with it, I’m furious at both of us. None of it makes sense."

"I can't tell you how to get rid of your anger." Brow furrowed, Angela's thumb rubbed gently against Fareeha's cheek. "Mine has never faded. It was just repurposed, I suppose." Her expression softened as she focused on their hands and her warmth. She let out a soft huff of breath, summoning up her will.

"I missed you." The Imp’s words were barely audible.

Fareeha let her eyes close, subduing the remaining shuddering in her chest that tried to fight with her. To go from Knight-Lord, defending the city, to some being judging the souls of her own dead friends and colleagues in the space of only a couple of days was too absurd to rationalize, and it was hard to force her mind to accept it, even affected as it seemed to be. She squeezed at Angela's hand again, pulling it away but refusing to relinquish it just yet, drawing them closer together. She let out the breath she had been keeping pent up and nodded faintly.

"Every day."   

Angela felt her chest burn, the sorrow briefly washing through her. She should have gone to her so long ago. She should not have caused her to suffer such a wound. It was one of the few things she could still regret. Even if she apologized again, again after that, and forever after, it would only draw out the bitterness of it. Their decisions were made, and so the consequences be damned. They were finally together again, and that should have been all that mattered. It was all that mattered to her, to have her touch again, as simple as it was.

"Go on. The ones that are left are yours." Fareeha gestured slowly, more casually than she would have liked, toward the hoard of souls she had collected. The souls she had found unworthy.

The Imp took a faint breath, pushing the rest from her mind and turning to focus on the remaining souls. It seemed to her that they were quivering in terror. She relinquished Fareeha's hand slowly and moved to them. She wasted no time in absorbing the essences, each one like a balm applied to a wound, a shiver running through her as energy returned. It would still take a great deal to restore the power that she'd used, but the sheer exhaustion had faded into merely a state of being tired.

The act had given time for Fareeha to quiet, dismissing her armor and settling onto a large chunk of dislodged stone from a nearby shop. It lay among splinters and broken board from shutters, along with dozens of blackened pastries, mostly streusels, in the avenue portion of the courtyard. She had taken one of the less scorched pastries, nibbling slightly on a corner and staring up into the night sky, which had grown clear in their time below.

"Some of the soldiers and knights got away. Civilians, too. To the north and the east. There were a few ways out before things got choked up. Not enough of them." Fareeha looked back at Angela. "But there's nothing I can do, now. They’ll all think I died, anyway." _I guess I did in a way_ , she thought.

"They would have seen or heard when the... whatever that thing was... pulled you into the crypt." It would have been hard to have missed it, and a faintly distressed expression flashed across Angela’s face as she remembered the abject horror even she had felt when she heard the Knight-Lord's voice being cut off. Worse was the image that she would never be able to erase of her laying broken and bloodied. She had thought herself immune to the sights of death and violence after so much having inundated her life, but to see Fareeha like that was wholly different.

"At the rate the constructs were pouring out, those people are the same ones you just absorbed." Fareeha sighed and let her free hand stop tapping her fingers against her thigh. "The very first ones to flee made it out, but probably only them. All to your benefit, I suppose." She winced a bit at her own words as she realized what she had said. Forcing herself to her feet, she dropped the pastry and quickly decided she needed to focus on other matters. "We have to leave. To do that, I need to get things from my quarters. And I... Wow, I need to eat something." Her stomach finally had made it known that she was in need of sustenance, and it was much fiercer than she had been prepared for with the growl it let out, on top of everything else.

"Do you want me to wait here?" A brief nod of acknowledgment had preceded the question. The whole situation was overwhelming and Angela was distinctly worried Fareeha was not going to want to be around her for at least a bit.

"Do you not need sleep?" Fareeha turned and began the long walk back to the fortress and the tower where she had resided for so long. "I won't take that long, in any case. I don't want to come back down here. I don’t want to be here at all. So no, I’d rather you didn't linger in the graveyard of my convictions." Her voice remained taut, as she sought to control it.

"I do sleep, but I didn't think this was the best place." The Imp followed along with her, and even she had to admit that going through the large halls that were now empty could be unnerving. She definitely was not foolish enough to bring up the subject, remaining quiet instead and as impassive as she could be as they made their way.

"No one will wake you up," Fareeha replied, a hard edge slipping into her voice. "I'll get you when I'm ready to go. You can use my bed. I won't be sleeping for a while." Even as powerful as the role of Anubis was in her soul, the trauma, the twisting at her heart, was going to cause her deep unease.

"Very well," Angela replied tersely. There was not really anything that she could say or do to make the situation 'better'. Not yet, at least. It would take time to heal both of them, and the wounds were fresh for Fareeha.

The staircases and halls were dimly lit, emergency lighting giving off a soft aquamarine hue painting the stones. Ascending them barely slowed Fareeha at all as she moved at a measured pace that seemed to not cause her the slightest strain. It was fortunate that nothing and no one was left, the major arteries of the fortress suddenly like so many others throughout Europe that had fallen in the time since magic and technology had collided. Her expression as she headed for her chambers was grim.

When they arrived at her room, the Imp headed directly over to the bed and slid her boots off. It was the first time that Fareeha really had the chance to consider the Imp's appearance in detail. The wings and horns were of some odd combination of synthetic construction and magitech that appeared twisted and corrupted. Unlike most innovations that Fareeha had seen, those additions seemed a part of her. The cloven metal of her boots on the other hand appeared superficial; done for the distinct visual effect they produced. She was human still in many ways, yet the unnatural additions seemed the embodiment of the embrace of what she had become. If people had thought her a monster, then she had decided to become one.

The sight made Fareeha look at her own hands and then at the long mirror in her room to see her own reflection. Her armor had faded out as she had entered the room, and the outfit she wore again, simple black and gold, reminded her of the clothing they'd often worn back home in Cairo, ages ago. It seemed oddly appropriate to how she had grown up and developed, as if it was not simply tailored to fit her ideally, but even for her spirit. She found she looked noble, and while she could claim that through her title alone, it somehow struck her as to her liking. Even the odd ears and claw-like nails she had developed felt complementary, and if she had to be honest, superficial. In truth, the most striking thing she saw were her eyes, like molten gold. It almost distracted her before she tore herself away and looked back to the Imp, Angela carefully inspecting the covers of her bed.

"They're high quality, I promise they’re comfortable," Anubis said quietly.

"It isn't that," the Imp replied with a quick defensive look. It softened quickly. "They smell like you." She realized that it could be a bit disturbing to admit, but she laid down, curling up around one of her pillows, burying her nose and mouth into it – it was wonderful. "I remember." She shook her head faintly in the cushion as memories returned; the spices and perfumes that Fareeha had always used to remember her homeland, the scent of her hair and body as they had set together in green grass, shoulder to shoulder, their heads leaning close as they learned about one another, each sharing stories of their families and homelands until well past dusk.

"I guess I didn't think about that very much," Fareeha whispered, looking back at herself for a moment before she tore her eyes away. For her, it was still a matter of concern that she could be so caught off guard by her transformed appearance. She had been self-assured for almost her entire life, but she was not one to look at herself extensively. The way the clothes covered her was so different than the long tunics and slacks of her nightly attire, though. Instead, her sun-kissed skin and muscles were totally visible, the tone impossible to miss on her biceps and triceps. It was disorienting. It did not help to turn and look at the Imp curling up under her sheets, her own bed, where she'd slept for years, a twisted thing, surely, but still beautiful even with the more drastic expression of her wings, horns, and tail.  "I'm going to find food, then come back here and sort my things. We need to go after that." She tore herself away, eyes squeezing shut briefly.

Angela nodded, watching her closely, and admiring her in silence. It had been too long a time since she had seen her last, and the hectic occurrences had kept her from really being able to look at her. When she turned away, the Imp finally closed her eyes, and exhaustion took her more quickly than she had anticipated. The toll had been great; far greater than she had planned. The comfort of the bed and being surrounded by the scents that she could identify as Fareeha were the perfect catalyst for guiding her into a fast, deep slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism always welcome. Apologies for the delay, some major rewriting was done on the initial plot layout to get us where we are now.


	7. Catharsis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The confrontation is not yet resolved. The Imp and Anubis try to shake the memories of the past, despite their talk of burying it for the new dawn.

The Imp slept deeply, her slumber more comforting than she had experienced for years just as Anubis had suspected. It was a deep enough sleep, in fact, that dreams of the past vividly formed in her mind.  Envisioning herself at a tournament, decorated banners swaying in the breeze. Deep brown eyes that were fierce with pride rolled over her sleeping senses.  She could hear a victory cry that made Angela's chest feel light, and then suddenly a bloodied hook crushed into her armored form, dragging her down and down, elation evaporating and replaced with dread that gripped her heart.

With a start, a sharp, terrified gasp rushing from her, the Imp awoke; her eyes were rapidly searching as her mind tried to re-calibrate itself and recover. The smell of Fareeha penetrated her sense of smell still, and for a moment she wondered if those new memories of her magic, the hallowed yellow energy bringing Fareeha back from death had only been a dream as well. It was only as she sat up in the comfortable bed that she registered Anubis's presence at the end, the tall, shadowed form of the Egyptian watching her closely with eyes that were adjusting from being sleepy and half-closed to focused on her. A faint sigh of relief passed her lips at the sight, the day's events coming back into focus in her mind.  

Clearing her throat, mouth dry from slumber, Angela licked her lips and pulled the sheets away. 

"You didn't have to wait. You could have woken me."

"You were asleep." Fareeha's voice was quiet, her words curt. She loomed, and the shadows of the room seemed to overpower the dim blue lighting, as if they were an entity all their own cloaking her.

There was quiet for a moment as the Imp looked at her, the short nature of her reply causing a new tightness in her chest. "You could have..." The Imp sighed, voice fading. Her mind freshly battled her heart. It had been like this since she had been near Fareeha again, and she could not quite understand why she was questioning years of planning. Fareeha was with her now and _that_ victory, that final success after so much careful planning and guiding of events throughout Europe, should have filled her with elation. 

 _Ah_ , the Imp lamented, _it’s all gone askew_. It was not supposed to have led to the complete destruction of Fareeha's life.

She shifted on the bed, moving toward Anubis. She wasn't timid, but she was careful. "Fareeha, I-" Again, she could not find the words. What could she possibly say after so much? Fortunately, Anubis was not completely silent.

"Could've, but I didn't," replied the warrior with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You don't look like you sleep well, most of the time." Slowly, she decompressed from where she had perched on the bed's railing in a crouch, rising to her full height and stepping down. Flexing her fingers, Anubis’s vivid golden eyes were trained on the sharpened nails. "It wasn't a problem, really. I needed to think and to have some food." She did not mention how unfulfilling, how alien it had felt to try and consume a meal. It had not felt right at all, and it did not take much intuition to know something was deeply off with her body’s need for sustenance. Angela did not need to know that for the time being, though. "By all rights, I shouldn't have let you wake up, you know?" Her eyes squeezed shut for the briefest moment before she looked back at her.

Settling back onto her heels and kneeling in front of Fareeha on the bed, the Imp looked at her blankly. The thought of Fareeha saying such a thing failed to fill her with sadness or even fear as she thought it should.  _Because_ , the waning voice in her whispered,  _you know it's true_. She looked up at her, no pride or protest in her eyes. "You're right. No one would blame you for it. Not even I would."

"It's selfish." Anubis's hand reached for the short, lavender hair to grasp it so she could bring their faces close. "I'm selfish. Because of you, I couldn't make the choice to honor my duty, my life's work." Her eyes were narrowed, brow knitted in anger that she had to breathe away carefully. It only fed into the tingle in the air around her, the proximity between them seeming to invite her to close the gap and give in.  Not in violence, but to desire, pointed urges she remembered from so long ago that had been relit to a blaze that almost frightened her.

"It's a logical judgement, isn't it?" Pulled up, though remaining on her knees, the Imp felt her breath catching as she was drawn close against her. She swallowed, her eyes drifting to her lips and back up. "Even now, knowing you have the right and reason to cast me aside, all I can think is that I wish you would just pull me closer..." Her words were whispered and hurried, tension palpable. "I don't want to live my life without you anymore."

"When did concerns about right or reason stop you?" There was a hard edge to her voice, but the hand in the Imp's hair shifted, Anubis's nails drifting against her scalp and running through the hair above her ear with a heated, pleasant glow behind. "You disappeared for twenty years, left me to go through all this myself, to live by myself." Her lip curled as she sneered, the last word charged with all the resentment and loss she could muster. She would allow no counter argument, no defense, following her words with the forceful pressure of their lips suddenly meeting - finally meeting - in a collision of surprisingly soft skin and heat, eased only slightly by the moisture left from a quick lick of her lips. The connection was fierce, driven by the conflicting instincts and emotions still warring beneath the surface.

The Imp felt herself overwhelmed for a moment, Anubis leaning into her as they touched. Hands reached out, grasping at the black silken shirt, perhaps meant to keep herself stable, but the pretense was abandoned almost immediately as it became a tug, pulling to keep her close. She groaned against her, years of want and need aching to find release in that long-lost scent and warmth. Shyness, hesitation; those were not things the Imp valued, yet she felt them acutely make a brief and unexpected tug in the corner of her mind.  She opened her mouth, meeting Anubis's tongue, as if daring them to interrupt such a long sought-after moment.

Anubis let out a huff of amusement at the Imp's enthusiasm, briefly letting their tongues meet before she gave a tug at her lower lip, fangs inadvertently causing small wells of blood to spring up from the dark, painted flesh. The corner of her lip curled up in a smirk, and she pulled back just long enough to fix her with a smug, pleased look before rejoining. The metallic tang was far more to her liking than she was going to say aloud, a wonderful seasoning to the taste of something so long denied to her.

The Imp's breath hitched, the lingering sting of Anubis's fangs forcing a shuddering sigh in the brief pause. Her skin felt as though it were burning and as soon as they were together again, she lifted one of her hands to wrap around the back of her neck, clinging. Raw want roiled beneath the surface, a sharp pang of desperation rushing through her. There had been no life without her, and even just this moment of connection was like her soul returning. She was not about to let her get away, her own nails scratching the sensitive skin at the nape of Anubis's neck. Her tongue sought out Anubis's again, her kisses quickly growing hungrier and rougher.  _More... I will give everything..._

The Imp's want for more was interrupted. Anubis had moved her hands to grip her shoulders, and in a fluid motion she pushed her down to the bed, flowing after her and straddling her waist, dark hair falling around her face as she looked down. 

"You let me think you were dead." Anubis’s voice nearly shook with anger, barely holding the tears that threatened and glazed her eyes at bay. Her nails, the claws that they had become, drew blood on the Imp’s shoulders as she gripped tightly. She did not have the presence of mind to wonder when the Imp had dismissed the tunic and sleeves of her white and violet garb. 

“You could have sent anything, so at least I’d know you were alive.”

There was only a slight flinch at the pain as the claws dug into her skin, breaking her out of the haze of pleasure that had been building. Catching her breath, she tried to still her near panting as she looked up at her, eyes alight with an unnatural light of their own. She moved her hands along Anubis’s skin, enduring the pain - Part of her welcomed and reveled in it, and claws in her skin were nothing compared to the agony in Fareeha's eyes.

The Imp’s collar felt the touch of Anubis’s lips, the dark-skinned woman shifting under her hands. Anubis’s other hand had slid down her side, grasping her waist and testing the feel of her body. 

"Was I?"

Anubis slipped a hand up to the side of the Imp’s head, grasping the strange synthetic material of her horn. 

“You’re obviously here.” Anubis had lowered her head to brush her lips over her neck, but her voice’s anger, the justified feelings of betrayal, felt as though they were fire against the Imp’s pale skin. 

“You would’ve cast me aside, just like the Order did.” The Imp wound her fingers into Anubis’s hair, holding her against her neck. She received a sharp bite that further filled her with warmth for her embrace. 

The Imp groaned as the fangs sinking into her skin sent an unexpected jolt along her spine and along her limbs. She was surprised that it was so intoxicating for an instant, though it was not difficult to determine that it was because of  _who_  was sinking claws and fangs into her.

She let out a pent breath, her fingers still clenched into Anubis's hair. "You're right. There are no excuses to justify what I chose." There was a hitch in her breath as the Imp fought back a creeping sob, blinking away tears forming in her eyes. Angela’s ghost, it seemed, still wished to fight on, despite the many attempts to be rid of it.  _You can't be so weak. You’ll deserve her even less than you already do._

“What’s with this sudden meekness?” Words echoing the Imp’s thoughts, Anubis pulled her head up and pulled her with her a few inches before glaring at her, flecks of crimson decorating her face. “You started all this. Don’t hide from it now.” If she was to be angry about the turn fate had given her, given them both, the Imp had to be able to weather it. “Do you not want this, Angela?” She drew out her name, though at heart she was not sure how much it applied to the Imp anymore. She knew that her connection to life as Fareeha was tenuous, even if her existence was a continuation of it. Her priorities and principles felt similar, yet she knew they were different in the wake of the traumatic shift in her being.

The Imp stared at her for a moment, considering what she had said. Her brow furrowed, which morphed into a glare - a challenge - and she set her jaw. The doubt, the nagging voice of the Angela who had long since been put to rest in her mind, had to be closed out. The dissent was suddenly far too vigorous and frequent. She had sacrificed so much, gone to so much effort, to create the chance that this moment would come to pass, and she could not let it be lost.

Her fingers curled, the tips of her nails digging into the back of Anubis's neck and her other hand braced against the bed as she pushed against her. The dark-haired woman was as she had been, but multiplied, like forged steel under skin that was soft and just slightly yielding.  It would have been so pleasant, the stuff of many dreams, to simply lay beneath her and explore her whole exquisite body with her hands and to let her do anything she wanted.  

 _No_ , the Imp told herself.  _She deserves my strength._  

"I'll never forgive the world for not letting us have each other." The confusion and hesitance was at once gone from the Imp's voice as she hooked an ankle behind Anubis's knee and quickly flipped their positions, coming to rest above her. “I want you.” The timbre had returned that Fareeha had heard on the ramparts; silken tone, wrapped like a deceptive sheath letting her anger at the world be barely seen but ever waiting for weakness. If Anubis did not want her to hide, then she was not going to deny her.

Anubis relinquished her grasp on the Imp's horn, giving an amused puff of breath and letting her hands grip the other woman's waist. Her smirk had not faded, nor had the tangled emotions in her eyes, but it was too good to argue. Despite the conflict, despite the shock and trauma of what had been the last two days, it almost seemed worth the cost. It was not just the passion which she was quite enthusiastically letting sweep her up in fiery tandem with the darker, more wounded emotions she felt, but simply having the woman she had loved, that she had continued to love in her heart, right there. 

"And is this how the Imp treats all those she wants? Aren't you afraid I'll break free?" There was no telling who would be able to bring the greater strength and power to bear. Anubis could feel the strength in the Imp's grasp, and she had only the beginning inklings of the power she could bring to bear. "Or would you enjoy that more than you'd like the peasants you terrify to know?" The thoughts either way, either of them winning out, filled her mind with a haze of lust she did not feel inclined to fight as she slid her hands up the Imp's stomach and onto her chest, cupping her breasts appreciatively. 

"You're the only one I've ever wanted," she said, trailing her fingers down along Anubis's stomach. Her claws dug into the fabric of her tunic, cutting and tearing easily to expose her, a pleased expression quirking her lips. "And you'll always be free." Her smile grew, her gaze softening deceptively. "But I'm sure we'll always be bound together. One way or another." Her implications were definitely not innocent, and she accentuated the meaning by firmly gripping one of Anubis's wrists, moving her hand away from her breast and to her lips, her index and middle fingers being immediately met with the wet heat of her tongue and mouth.

“I bet you’re the type that gets insanely jealous.” It helped cover her slight shudder at the sensation of the Imp licking at her fingers. Her other hand came to the Imp’s thigh, to test and enjoy the firmness there. She had always imagined her as delicate, if not fragile, and was pleasantly surprised to feel the strength and heat that belied old impressions. 

"Over you, always," she cooed, and with only a moment's consideration, pricked Anubis's fingertip against her fang to draw up a well of blood. A small payback for the gnawing on her neck. Again, her lips closed around the digit, suckling some of the blood away. She let out a soft groan at the metallic tang, drawing herself up to her hands and knees above her, letting Anubis's hand drop away, her fingertip smearing blood over her bottom lip and onto her chin as she let go. "We've both given up too much. I promise you I will kill anyone who tries to separate us again." She nearly growled the harsh words, plainly wearing the anger on her face.

"Enough death for today." Anubis grasped back at the Imp's wrists, pulling her close so she could kiss her again, eyes closed a moment as she sank into the taste. Her hands brought the Imp's slowly up her sides, guiding her to feel the strong, sheathed muscles to a purr of appreciation. "You owe me right now." Her words came at breaks in their kisses, rapid and breathless. 

The Imp gave another wanton groan, the intensifying heat in her, the desire, demanding further indulgence. It had been twenty years of being deprived of the only thing they had ever wanted. She was surprised at the guilt she felt over it, and she would make it right.

Settling her weight atop Anubis as her tongue sought for contact among her now panting breaths, her hips pressed down. Where her now uncovered mound rubbed against Anubis’s abdomen, telltale wetness lingered. Her hands moved away from Anubis’s guidance, sliding up to her breasts and kneading to encourage the pleasure radiating through her. 

Anubis felt a ghost of amusement, part of her pushing her to tease playfully at the Imp, but her own patience had worn thin after all the time lost. With a sly grin up, she slid her hand between them. It was an exploratory search at first, fingers sliding between them and quickly slickening as she tested just how the Imp’s body compared to her own. It drew an involuntary moan from under her breath before she angled her fingers and sank them into the warmth of Imp’s eager slit. She knew it would hurt, the unnatural claws likely to dig, but she was also remarkably deft in minimizing it. The soft sting, she suspected, was going to only encourage the being that had evolved from Angela. 

A gasp left the Imp in surprise at the ease with which she had been invaded.  Her face had flushed, tingling with the rush of blood through her body. Anubis’s fingers - Fareeha’s fingers - no longer a fantasy doomed to end in her crashing back down to earth alone and cold, were touching her, they were enjoying her. She rolled her hips lightly to move with her rubbing, leaning down to lick against Anubis’s lips in a slow, indulgent path, building more heat between them.

Anubis could not begrudge the Imp luxuriating in the sensations long sought after as she explored and tested, curling with her fingers and rubbing. She waited for a hitch in the Imp's breath to know where to focus, and held her palm firmly against her mound to pressure her clit when it came. 

"Not quite as dangerous now, right, Angela?" Fareeha's grin was smug and amused, even as she gave a hum in the back of her throat at the shared pressure her hand was applying where they were pressed together. "I can't believe you made me wait so long for this."

The Imp gave an indignant huff, sitting up and bracing a hand against the bed with the other moving to caress Anubis's breast. Even as she moved eagerly against Anubis's hand, she thumbed at her nipple, hoping to share in the gratification, to share in the pleasure of the experience. Her mind drifted to the analytical, pondering the fact that the claws should been much more painful than seemed to be the case. An unexpected part of the dark deal that had been made was that they could both regenerate and heal quickly, at least in the way that it was currently benefitting them. The small wounds that Anubis had made on her neck had already sealed over, the only evidence being the smudges of crimson on her skin. Now, between her legs, there was only the exquisite pressure of fingertips against her inner wall, any sting caused by a poke or rub only feeding into the pleasure.

"I can't believe I waited so long either..."

"And whose fault is that?" Anubis gave a firm push of her fingers, conflict still in the back of her eyes and roiling in her heart. Despite the lingering resentment, she had made clear she was in no mood to give it up after attaining it, and used her hips to help push her fingers and hand against the Imp with the benefit of helping her grind against her. The stimulation, the radiating pleasure from their shared contact, made her thighs threaten to quiver, her will barely keeping her from letting it take over. 

She growled faintly and delivered a pinch to Anubis’s nipple with the pads of her fingertips, and the flash of guilt trying to rise was summarily pushed down. She sat up further to indulge fully in the fingers curling into her, unwilling to hold back any longer. Her nails scratched down along her muscled abdomen as she moaned freely, grinding and rolling her hips onto Anubis’s hand. She wanted to throw her head back and revel in her ecstasy, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away, a momentary fear gripping her. If she looked away, Anubis could disappear. No, she would keep that beautiful golden gaze locked with her own  **-** It was still hard to believe it was not fantasy.

The wounds left behind the Imp’s claws bled for scarcely more than a moment before they smoothed over, but the sight alone seemed to only incite her. Anubis drew up, moving her hand to grasp the back of the Imp’s neck so that she could use her height and reach her neck. Hot breath, along with an eager moan, gave warning just before her lips touched skin and fangs pierced flesh. 

“Ah gods,” the Imp groaned, shuddering as a heavy warmth crept down along her spine. The sensations were almost overwhelming - fingers pressing and rubbing at that perfect bundle of nerves inside her, and now the sharp pain of fangs digging into her neck. Her pulse throbbed against Anubis’s tongue, as blood welled from the wounds made. Her moan was indulgent and excited as her hips bucked against Anubis’s hand, working to grind her clit against the heel of her palm. Her arms lifted to cling tightly to her, claws digging into her back to give her a taste of the exquisite pain.

The sound of the Imp’s plea drove a shiver down Anubis’s spine, spreading a thrill she had not felt before. It took all of her will to keep herself steady as she pushed against her, hand easily standing up to the weight and pressure between them. With the taste of the Imp’s skin, a unique fragrance brewed of lilacs and death with a dash of blood, she felt her orgasm coming, warning waves of intensity washing through her as she drew to the point of no return. It was far superior to simply touching herself, regardless of how pleasant her thoughts may have been.

And then she crossed it, crying out against the Imp’s neck in ecstasy. 

Gripping Anubis in her arms tightly as their bodies spasmed and rolled against each other, the Imp's vision swam with the hazy light of being lost in the tremors. Goosebumps lifted on her skin as she heard Anubis's voice crying out. For just a moment, one of deep sentimentality that she knew she would berate herself over later, she thought it must have been the most erotic and beautiful sound she had ever heard. It mingled and bloomed with the circling touch of the fingers within her, pressing against a spot that seemed too perfect to be real.  She kept their shared tight hold on one another as she too rode through the shudders and radiating pleasure as she came.

The aftershocks that continued to drive shivers through them both lasted no short period of time. They mutually planted their faces against one another’s necks, breath breezing over sweat-sheened skin and bringing shivers in its wake at the coolness that defied the heat of their joined bodies. 

When she was able to finally focus on recovering from the tremors and convulsions of her hips, the Imp kept pushing herself down against Anubis's hand in fevered desperation. She did not want to let it end so easily, the pleasure so much more vivid and invigorating than anything she could remember.  _No,_ she thought to herself.  _You have all the time in the world now. Do not forsake the immediate dangers._

Her hands found their way into Anubis's hair, her head tilting to rest her cheek against her temple, her hot, unsteady breaths puffing into the black hair. She lingered another moment, her hands drifted further up and grasping at the pointed jackal ears gently and rubbing them, partly out of curiosity, and partly out of comfort.  Anubis leaned against her a bit more heavily at the scratching, a hand briefly caressing her shoulder, before she shifted and pushed herself up to separate their bodies.

"We need to go." Anubis's voice was somber as she squeezed her eyes shut a moment and let her clothes settle back into existence. They were undamaged from the Imp's earlier aggressive touch, but she paid it little mind, nor did she concern herself with the fact that the control over their presence seemed second nature and nearly unconscious. "Reinhardt will send soldiers to secure the fortress, and I- we, cannot be here." As it was, she noted with a bit of surprise, the bed was stained red in spots. Some of the sheets, gathered up in their passion, were torn and shredded. She allowed herself a quiet sigh at the implications that it would bring to those investigating.

The Imp was naturally reluctant to separate from her, plainly obvious from the way her fingers lingered against her lover’s skin, but she understood the necessity of a hasty retreat. She stood, her own clothing returning from whatever void it rested in when not in use. With a practiced motion, she reached up to pull her hair back into the ponytail she had worn since first seeing Fareeha again. A guarded glance around the room was made as she settled it in place, examining the traces of what had been her life with a burrowing worm of regret in the back of her mind. Mercilessly, the Imp quashed it down as she set her jaw. It was not the time to grant such lingering emotions of weakness have a say.  With the honed saunter she had gained throughout the years, she walked to the heavy desk in the room and leaned with her waist against it. 

“Do you want to take anything with you?”

Anubis narrowed her eyes in thought, a twinge of bitterness curling the corner of her lip before she moved to the other side of the desk and sat down in the leather-bound chair behind it. She let out a pent up breath in a noncommittal sigh before reaching out and pulling open a drawer. It was not densely packed. Her fingers settled on a pair of folded, wax-sealed letters atop a small wooden case, and lingered there as she further contemplated their fate. 

For her part, the Imp knew well the two letters, if not the box. Her scrying, both natural and mystical, had little difficulty piercing the veil of space and distance to take stock of the contents. Indeed, one letter she had read many times, so much so it had nearly become a twisted mantra in her mind. 

"Are you-" The Imp's breath caught in her throat at the glare from Anubis. 

"Neither one is ever going to fulfill their intended purpose, anymore," Anubis finally said, looking away and softening her expression, the stress that the events of the last several days had wrought upon her relieved just a touch at their rough lovemaking and, as much as she hated to admit it given what Angela had become, her presence. "And this letter to mother." She allowed herself a bitterly amused laugh. "I always meant for it to go to her, when I died, as long as she was still alive. I suppose that's best. For Fareeha Amari to be dead." She tossed it gently onto the middle of her desk, atop a detailed map of Eichenwald. "And then there's this one. But you know all about that, don't you." The accusation in her tone was exhausted, and she clearly felt it not worth pressing a grievance over.

“You shouldn’t leave them.” The Imp reached out cautiously, ready to pull back her hand at the slightest hint that Fareeha was wary of her touch. The contact was gentle, adoration apparent as her hand smoothed along Anubis’s shoulder and bicep. “I do know, of course.” Her lavender gaze shifted down to the letter that still remained in the drawer, and the box beneath. At least, the letters she knew. The box had always proven a stubborn thing that would not let her senses pierce whatever veil protected it for reasons she had not been able to fully discern.

"They belong to her." Anubis wore a grim frown, fingers tracing over the surface of the box. "Even if they’re both gone from this world, they aren’t mine." The second letter, one penned many years ago, had yellowed with age. The creases in its folds were well-worn, permanently etched into it. Within, flowing script that the Imp was all too familiar with it lined the page. It started out cautious but enthusiastic, an invitation. An invitation to Angela, and a request, written by Fareeha that she come join them in Eichenwald. Arrangements would be made on behalf of Lord Reinhardt to sanction it. 

Fareeha had finished the letter only hours before news of Zurich had reached them.

With a forceful intake of breath, she left the items in the drawer and stood, running a hand through her hair, and, with a glance at the Imp that plainly spoke to no desire to wait about in this place where her humanity had died, she swiftly crossed the chamber to the door and turned, toward the same rampart where they had been reunited.

Wordlessly, the Imp watched as she left the room, fingers moving to touch the folded over and tanned paper. The wax seal was still in place, a stylized falcon against a clouded sky denoting Fareeha's noble title.  She picked it up, inspecting it more closely. 

“‘The view from the ramparts is stunning.’” The Imp knew the words by heart. “‘Eichenwalde is named for its forest, and if you see it, you'll understand. It looks like it stretches to edge of the world. It's more peaceful than any place has a right to be.’” She slid the letter into the seam of her tunic, settling it hidden away and secure against her body. The box came from the drawer, then, and she set it atop the desk to open it. “‘Wald’ is the German word for forest. I’m sure you know that by now, but I would have loved to have taught you." Her words were barely audible, quavering slightly.

The Imp's thumbs pressed against the small latches on either side of the box's front, and she was rewarded with a pair of muted clicks as the silver mechanisms popped open. The box was lined with fine blue fabric of a kind she did not recognize, but there was an unusual and dense metal backing on either side, the likely culprit in preventing her from ever being able to tell what was within. It was the contents, though, that yielded the sharpest piercing of her heart she had felt yet.  

Yellow and orange fabric set still wrapped about the broken tip of a spear, only a few inches in length.  The sheer scarf had been given to Fareeha at the hastilude. A favor for a gallant, brave knight who fought and won with a grace and power that drew more than just Reinhardt and his fellow knight's attention. Her hands shook as she touched the fabric and weathered wood, and she squeezed her eyes shut to prevent any more tears beyond the few that had snuck out from joining them.

 _Foolish and sentimental girl_ , the Imp berated herself.   _This belongs to Angela and Fareeha, and they're dead - you saw to that_. The lingering sentimentality was too strong, though. What would become of Fareeha’s legacy if the last things of hers were an eager letter and favor relating to a fallen priestess? The Imp knew all too well how the Order would see that news played, and what would become of the strong woman's life story.  

 _No_ , she thought as she pulled the letter free and set it atop the scarf and shut the box.  _Fareeha should be remembered as Knight-Lord Amari, protector of Eichenwald and Reinhardt's champion._

She turned to the door, tucking the box in the same spot she had meant to conceal the letter.  The bulge faded after a moment, and she breathed a sigh of relief knowing that her magic could conceal it even if she could not look within it. Hurriedly, she strode to the door to make her way to the ramparts. Perhaps Anubis would chide her for keeping the items, if she found out, but that remained to be seen, and, Angela thought,  _that is a fight I am willing to take up._

The Imp found Anubis standing in one of the low divides of the ramparts, armor in place and jackal-like helm's visor raised as she studied the landscape. There were several distant plumes of smoke that crept into the sky to meet those still trailing up from Eichenwald itself, marring a cloudy sky brilliantly illuminated by a setting sun. It was unexpected that so much time had passed, but it only made her share the sense of urgency that Anubis had exhibited. As she stepped up next to her, she could see the telltale redness in her eyes. Anubis lowered the helm, and the wings of her armor flexed out, ready behind her. It was the end of so much of her life's work and time, and as much as she wished to, the Imp found it hard to sympathize over the loss. Her life's work and aims had been severed from so much earlier that it seemed impossible to compare. There was one thing she knew, though. 

"Are you ready, then?" The Imp's own wings flared with violet light as dark energy came to life. 

"I am. At least if my old life is gone and buried, this one is with you."

"I understand." The answer brought a wave of peace to the Imp's heart, and even if the regret and sorrow were not completely washed away, they became bearable again. It was not just her burden to bear, any longer. 

"To the clouds, then." There was a gust of heat and the echo of Anubis's engines as she was lifted into the sky, once more catching the light of the fading day, and the Imp, staff in hand, vaulted after her to join her as they flew away. 

Away from Eichenwald.

Away from lives that had been broken.

* * *

A man in blue and gold robes held out a letter, sealed with wax, fingers trembling with nervousness echoed by the beads of sweat on his brow barely clinging in place despite the comfortable temperature of the chamber.

Illuminated by the flickering light of candles, a weathered hand took it and examined the soaring falcon and cloud emblem pressed into it. She traced it with her thumb slowly. A single eye focused on it, never acknowledging the man's presence. Sensing his task complete, he bowed and turned, leaving the room.

"At least you were a considerate enough daughter to send me a last letter." Ana Amari leaned back in the wide, ancient chair where she sat behind a wide desk. Her eye came to rest on a wide carving on the far wall, where two flickering flames joined the other candles in the room. One was a steady, slowly swaying flame that did not seem susceptible to breeze or wind. The other burned unnaturally, tinged with black as it danced about fiercely, as if raging against the thought of burning out.

"For a posthumous reconciliation letter it seems a bit premature, though, doesn't it, Fareeha?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This concludes the first part of this story. Ultimately we're looking at three 'short story' type parts of this tale. We'll either reopen and add new chapters to this one, or group it into a collection - undecided as of yet. Please feel free to leave constructive criticism or feedback here or at our tumblr offkeelworld (we do accept asks).
> 
> We've updated the tags to include the adult content - if we missed any that we should have, please let us know so we can update.


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